Glittering Clouds
by Astarpen
Summary: "I thought that she was going to kill me." Santana snaps at her friend. Her face twists and she goes back to adjusting the papers in front of her. "She was going to kill me." She repeats softly.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Someone once asked me if I could write a story about a relationship that was failing that didn't have to do with communication failure. Honestly I think that's the real reason most relationships end. But, I like to challenge myself, and while this could easily be a Faberry, someone wanted Charlie/Santana with D/s undertones where Santana was truly submissive to Charlie. I'm lazy as hell. So I combined the two of them into this story.**

 **Song: Glittering Clouds by Imogen Heap (I think this song fits this story perfectly so give it a listen)**

 **Summary: "I thought that she was going to kill me." Santana snaps at her friend. Her face twists and she goes back to adjusting the papers in front of her. "She was going to kill me." She repeats softly.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

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"Can you give this to her please? And can you—tell her that I'm sorry. Please Quinn, tell her that I'm sorry—I'm _so fucking_ sorry."

Quinn Fabray looked at the white envelope that had been pushed onto the table and picked it up quietly. She played with the edges of the envelope and inspected it. She recognized the familiar messy scrawl that was truthfully barely legible. "You know—she doesn't blame you—and she really just wants you to come home. That's it, that's all she wants." Quinn said gently reaching across the table and taking her twin sister's hand. It's hard to see her like this, with that haunted look in her eyes, and she's lost at least ten pounds, ten pounds that she didn't need to lose. It gives her face this sunken appearance and Quinn has to blink back her own tears. She'll need to talk to the doctors, the orderlies—someone who can make sure that Charlie's eating. "Charlie—"

"I can't come home Quinn—I can't see her again after what I did. I could have—I nearly—" Charlie said closing her eyes. She opens them a second later because she can't close her eyes. Not anymore. She can't remember the last time she slept without being pumped full of drugs.

Quinn is patient and rubs her sister's hand, "She forgives you Charlie. She knows—"

It's a barking laugh, that escapes her lips and she licks them. They're cracked and she can taste the bitterness of the iron. "She shouldn't—what I did—she shouldn't even want anything to do with me."

"Charlie, you listen to me." Quinn said as she gripped her sister's hand. It had taken her time to wrap her head around it. She had been furious at her twin, she hadn't understood. "She's in love with you. That hasn't changed, she loves you—"

Another harsh laugh, another lick of her lips. She doesn't care if she looks crazy she's dangerous, this is where she belongs. No she knows where she belongs in a fucking 6 by 8 prison cell. But that'd be a blot on a family name, so she's in this facility where they pump her full of drugs instead, where she draws fucking pictures and tries to ignore the crazy people until she remembers she's one of them. "She hasn't come to visit—I don't blame her. She shouldn't come—I don't want her to come. She's not allowed to."

Quinn sighed and squeezed Charlie's hand trying to get her to see reason. But it's clear she's getting agitated and she's not sure if it's the drugs that aren't doing their job, or her sister is just no longer completely there but she glares at one of the orderlies that approaches them. She can handle this, she doesn't need them to drug her any more than they already have. So she changes the subject to get her mind off it. "Rachel wants to come visit, she said she wants to make you some sugar cookies, you know your favorites?" Quinn says. She's met with silence. "Charlie I trust you with her what happened with—"

"You trust me because I don't have access to a gun." Charlie says bluntly and she sees Quinn flinch.

She hadn't meant to, and yes that may have been part of the reason. Truthfully she blamed their father always going off about second amendment rights all the time. He had been the one to give her that gun. If she hadn't had it—Quinn exhales noisily and tries again. "The doctors say you're getting better—"

"Those are the anti-psychotics," Charlie interrupts. "And whatever else they pumped me full of."

Quinn winces and looks around the room, the place is depressing, "We'll find another facility—on that's better somewhere where they can _fix—_ " She wants to say you but it dies in her throat, and she just squeezes Charlie's hand again. She's not even sure there is any fixing it.

Charlie pulls her hand away and pushes the chair back as she stands up. "I'm late for arts and crafts," she says. "I don't think you should come around here anymore Quinn. This is where I belong." With that she walks away leaving Quinn sitting there.

Quinn wipes away a few tears, she needs to get Charlie into a better facility. She doesn't need arts and crafts, she needs help actual help with people who care about her getting better. She needs to start fighting to get better, she didn't need to be this. It had been nearly seven months since the 'incident' and it didn't seem like anything was working. There was no progress. She'd pay for it herself if her father wasn't going to take it seriously.

* * *

There was nothing worse than having to deal with stupid people. It was a thought that had constantly been echoing in her head lately as she threw the report onto her desk. Santana didn't even know how she got stuck with people like this. Frustration didn't even begin to cover how she felt. She wanted to rip someone a new asshole. She didn't need this, she had a massive audit looming over her head and she couldn't deal with Clint not being able to do his fucking job. She doubted he could even read a fucking bank statement. She rubbed her head, it didn't help that she had noticed something wrong with the accounts lately. They weren't adding up and she couldn't quite figure it out. She needed to figure it out _before_ the audit or it would be her ass on the line.

Her phone rang and she frowned looking at the number. It was her assistant's extension and Santana's frown deepened. She had told him to cancel every one of her meetings. Did he not understand what that meant? "I don't give a _fuck who it is_. Tell them to go fuck themselves, I'm busy as fuck." She slammed the phone down and picked up the documents again. It was going to be another long day and night for her. There's a knock on the door. "I _said_ —" she begins angrily looking up as she tosses the papers back onto the table. For one split second, the flash of blonde hair and hazel eyes looking back at her fills her with hope and warmth. But those warm fuzzy feelings disappear instantaneously when she realizes that it's _just_ Quinn. "Quinn." Santana said. "Come in—it's not like I'm not swamped as it is."

Quinn rolls her eyes and walks into Santana's office much to her annoyance and takes a seat in front of her. Santana doesn't look at her, she hasn't looked her in the eye in months. Santana had moved in with them for a few weeks before moving right back out after finding an apartment or herself. "I got you some sushi from the place you liked," Quinn says calmly putting the bag onto Santana's desk, ignoring the annoyed look from Santana.

Santana touches the bag and moves it off of her papers, "You went to go see her," she says quietly.

Quinn forces a smile onto her face and nods, "I did. She loves you and she says she's sorry. She wanted you to know that she's sorry."

Santana was quiet fiddling and adjusting the papers on her desk. "She doesn't need to be _sorry_. She just needs—I need her to come home. I forgave her already I know—I know it wasn't her." She readjusts the papers again trying not to think about it. "Is she—doing better?"

Quinn watches Santana for a moment, "The doctors say she's doing much better." Quinn relaxes a bit when Santana smiles, and she can't tell her that she wants to move her sister out of that facility. She just can't, the situation is fucked up and there is no way for her to handle it. "I think—she'd do a lot better if she saw you Santana. I know it's difficult and I can't blame you if you're scared—no one blames you if you don't want to go—I just think seeing you will help." Quinn says gently.

The fiddling increases, and Santana looks away. "I can't Quinn. As you can see I'm swamped with work—the audit is coming and there's just so many things going wrong right now. I can't take the day off, not until after." She can't look at Quinn. They've had the conversation a million times and every time it's a new excuse. She's running out of them but she just can go, and she can't bear to see the betrayal that flashes across Quinn's face. She exhales, "But she's getting better right? She'll be ready to come home soon?"

Quinn wants to yell that she wouldn't that she lied and Charlie's still as broken as the day she was checked in. But she doesn't and she just nods, because what else what was there. This isn't Santana's fault—this isn't anyone's fault, and even though she wants to lay the blame on someone she knows she just can't. Quinn sighs and nods and gives Santana a bit of a smile as she gets up, "The 'incident' was—" Quinn begins trying to be diplomatic.

Santana frowned slightly as she looked at Quinn. "Stop calling it an _incident_. This wasn't an _incident_ Quinn. She pulled a gun on me, she pointed it to my head and I thought that she was going to _kill me_." Santana snaps at her friend. Her face twists and she goes back to adjusting the papers in front of her. "She was going to _kill me_." She repeats softly. She knows it wasn't _her_ but she couldn't face her. She couldn't face Charlie when she had failed her. Hindsight—there had been signs that something was amiss. That Charlie wasn't quite—right, ever since she had come home. But she had ignored them and it had spiraled out of control.

Quinn clenches her jaw, no one around her had said what Charlie had done. Maybe it was the Fabray in her, it was probably the Fabray in her. "I know," she says lamely and sits there in silence and looks at the ground for a moment not quite sure where to take the conversation from here. She had failed, she just thought that maybe if they saw each other they could _heal_ she just wanted to put this behind her. She wanted Charlie out of that damn facility and she wanted Santana to be okay. She sighs and slowly gets up, Santana couldn't bear to be touched by her, and she wasn't looking to be comforted. "I should get back to work, before I get fired," she says after a moment and looks at Santana who gives her a dismissive nod. Quinn turns and takes a few steps before remembering the letter that Charlie had given her to give to Santana. Well it had been addressed to Santana, at least it looked like it. She flicks her eyes to Santana who was reading a report of some kind and she sighs, and pulls it from her jacket pocket. "She told me to give this to you," Quinn says. "I didn't read it—" Quinn holds the letter out but Santana doesn't take it from her and she sighs and puts it down on her desk. "Take it easy Santana," Quinn says gently before working out. She feels helpless and she doesn't like it but she's going to start looking at other facilities. Maybe with Rachel's help, she was always better at this sort of thing and she doesn't even know where to begin.

Santana stares at the letter on her desk for a long moment. Wondering what it could say—she was torn between opening the letter and just throwing it away. She reaches for the letter, her hand hesitating for a moment before she takes it and traces the crappy handwriting. She had always complained about it, but the messy chicken scratch that was her name was so familiar. She bites her lip and puts it in her purse, when she has a moment she'll look at it. She doesn't want to cry at work, and she can't lose it now. She stares at the papers in front of her, but she can't concentrate, on the numbers anymore and she needs some air. She gets up and grabs the sushi that Quinn brought in for her and walks out of her office. "Need some air, hold my calls," Santana says dumping the bag of sushi onto her assistant's desk.

* * *

 **AN: What a mess we're in, how in the world will we ever fix it. Anyway I love reviews so please review, tell me if you enjoy this or not.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, I do hope you continue to review because they really make my day which motivates me to write more.**

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It was after midnight when Santana finally opened the door to her small studio apartment and dropped her purse and her keys onto the small dining table she had, and slumped face first into bed. She was mentally exhausted and she needed to be up early tomorrow so she could start the never-ending process all over again. She sighed and clutched her pillow knowing she should get up and get changed but her body was just as exhausted as her mind and she sighed. She rolls over and stares at the white ceiling, she hadn't bothered to decorate, she didn't think that she would be staying here long. But here she was seven months. It was hard to believe it had been that long—seven months since Charlie had simply lost her shit. She closed her eyes shut just wanting to tune it out to forget—but she can't.

Santana lifts her head and looks at her purse and stares at it, the letter is still sitting there burning a hole through the leather. With a small tired grunt she moves to her purse and pulls it out, tracing the edges with her fingers. She pads back to the bed and flips the letter over again and again, holding it up to the light to see the contents of the letter, but even if she could there was no way that she could ever read it. Charlie's handwriting is far too messy and she doesn't understand how when Quinn's was perfectly legible.

She's conflicted, a part of her _wants_ to open it, to pour over the letter like she had when Charlie was writing to her more regularly. But there was also a part of her— a large part of her that was absolutely terrified. She didn't want to read insane ramblings. But Quinn had reported that the doctors thought she was getting better so maybe, it would be her normal Charlie. She tears the letter open carefully and unfolds the letter slowly, her hands shaking a bit. The first few lines were crossed out, like she had trouble finding the right words to say, but the letter eventually starts.

 _I don't even know where to start. Maybe because I don't know how to apologize for what I did. I know that sorry will never make it better. What I did will never be okay. I know that nothing I say or do can ever make you forgive me or trust me—I don't even trust me, I can't ever expect you to trust me again. I know Quinn's been trying to get you to come and see me. I know her hearts in the right place and I know that it wasn't just you that I hurt. I hurt everyone around me. But please don't let her convince you to come here. To come visit me. I know she says that you just want me to come home and that you love me but you can't. You can't love me and I'm not coming home. You can't forgive me Santana and I don't want you to wait for something that will never happen. I'm not getting better. No matter what Quinn tries to peddle, I'm never getting better and I'm not getting out of here. This is where I belong and you need to move on. You need to find someone else who can be there for you._

 _I once told you that the most important thing we share together is trust. You need to trust me and I needed to trust you. But I broke that. I fucking broke that and I lied to you, just like I lied to myself. I thought that coming home to you would fix it. That I wasn't slowly losing my mind, and I tried so hard to make that lie a reality. To be the person you needed me to be for you. I should have told you. But I couldn't. I thought I was strong and invincible but I'm not. I'm broken. I broke this, I know I did. I lied to you not about something small but about something so life changing and devastating that it nearly cost me everything. I lied to you Santana and I lied to myself. So you need to move on and you need to find happiness. You need to be with someone who can make you happy that can support and help you the way you need to be supported. Because the only truth that I can tell you right now is that I don't think I'm ever going to get better._

 _I need you to understand, to know that this isn't your fault. That none of this was your fault, and I know you Santana. I know you think that maybe you should have seen it that maybe if you had looked hard enough you could have seen the cracks. I need you to stop thinking like that and I need you to realize that this wasn't your fault. None of this was. You should have been enough—no you were enough. But I can't be fixed Santana. I just can't be. So I'm begging you to not waste your life waiting for me and to please go find some happiness. So don't come see me. I need you to know that I loved you—that I love you and I will look back on the time we shared and I will cherish, and I'm not going to be angry or hurt that you moved on. I want you to be happy above all else I want you to be happy._

 _Charlie_

Santana reread the letter again and then once more, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. That there wasn't some secret code or anything like that. But there wasn't and she frowned, irritated that Charlie didn't even have the guts to look her in the eyes and say this. Let alone the fact that she was saying what she was saying. Yes she was being hypocritical, but she at least had a legitimate excuse. She had been the one that had a gun pointed at her face. She wasn't staying away because she wanted to. She wanted to be there—she just couldn't bear to see Charlie in that state. Broken.

It's a rare surge of energy and she get up and dumps the contents of her purse out, items scattering everywhere. She wasn't going to let Charlie think she could just limp off into the distance and try and put herself out of her misery in some misplaced attempt to be noble. She didn't need some stupid nobility. She needed Charlie back—even if she couldn't see her to slap her out of it.

* * *

Quinn groaned as she walked to the front door to her apartment, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She had found a few excellent care facilities in the city. That meant that she could visit her sister more and the surroundings weren't all that depressing. Some of them even had cutting edge treatment for PTSD. It was of course expensive but the results seemed to be very good. She was going to check out facilities with Rachel. She had only mentioned the idea to Rachel and had come home to find several pamphlets for various places on coffee table. She loved her wife more than anything in the world. They had discussed it together and she hoped that it would be enough to convince her family that moving Charlie was in their best interest then just dumping her there to be pumped full of drugs.

Quinn blinked still exhausted as she looked at Santana—"Do you _ever_ sleep?" Quinn asked her after seeing Santana looking like she was ready to take on the world.

Santana studied Quinn for a moment, choosing not to answer it. She hadn't slept much last night. She hadn't slept much at all lately. It was difficult. "I was busy last night," Santana said holding up two letters. "Next time you see Charlie, I want you to give these to her. I need you to give her the labelled one first and then after that I need you to give her the unlabeled one." Santana said briskly. She should be at the office already but she had needed to drop off the letters.

Quinn blinked again as she took the letters from Santana, this would be so much easier if Santana just went and delivered the message herself. But maybe this was her process and she needed a bit more time. "We're thinking of moving her into the city Santana, there are some nice private facilities nearby and she may get better quicker if she has more family and friends around to support her."

Santana paused for a moment, "Quinn, I can't see her," Santana said bluntly, she might as well just get it over with and tell Quinn who would only keep on trying because she thought it was for the best.

"Santana—Charlie wants to see you. I know she does and I really do think it'll help her. It's been seven months. I don't think she'll magically be better but maybe it'll help her morale? She loves you even though the incident happened—she loves you. That hasn't changed." Quinn pleaded.

"Funny considering she wants me to move on and go find some happiness or whatever _bullshit_ , the fairy tale are spitting these days." Santana says her words cutting deeply and she sighs when she sees the confusion and a bit of hurt cross Quinn's face. She holds up her hand stopping Quinn from saying anything. "Quinn, I can't see her. I just can't please stop asking me to go see her. She doesn't want me there, and I don't want to see her so broken."

Quinn runs a hand through her hair and glances at the envelope. "Do you want some breakfast before you have to go in?" Quinn asks rubbing her arm, she hesitates for a moment. "If you don't want to see her—maybe you can help pick out some facilities, to make sure she's okay?"

"I'm late for work," Santana responds. "That audit is kicking my ass this year and we need to get over it," she said. She pauses for a moment when she sees that disappointment once again flicker across Quinn's features. "So—send me an email and I'll look them over when I have a moment?" she offers.

It brings a relieved smile to Quinn's face, it's the most Santana's offered to do in months. Maybe all she had needed was to hear from Charlie. "I'll do that." Quinn said glancing at Rachel who was shuffling behind her. Her hair was a mess and she was basically working on autopilot until she had her first cup of coffee. Quinn turns back to Santana who looks like she's about ready to go. "Alright, I'll talk to you later?" Quinn asks and Santana nods before leaving and Quinn closes the door, glancing at the letters in her hand. Its progress, and progress was good. She moves towards Rachel and wraps her arms around her tightly as she sips her coffee. "Morning," she breathes into her ear.

Rachel grumbles for a moment and takes another sip of coffee, "Santana?" she asks after she starts to feel the effects.

Quinn nods, "I invited her for breakfast—so we could check in on her but she's busy at work."

Rachel lets out a small laugh, "You know Santana doesn't eat right Quinn?" Rachel said.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "She really does have this huge audit coming up. She's busy and I know that. She's always busy every year around this time. She's certainly not sleeping much but—I think hearing from Charlie helped her. So maybe things will start looking up." Quinn kisses Rachel's cheek and places the letters down. "I'm going to go take a shower," Quinn says and smiles when Rachel turns to her. Today was going to be a good day, things were going to get better.

* * *

 **AN: Quinn has become a mailman. Stuff happens next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you for all your reviews, they mean the world to me.**

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Charlie frowns as she walks into the visiting room, she debates turning right back around and going to go lie on her bed. She looks at Quinn who is neatly arranging what looks to be various pamphlets onto one of the tables and Charlie gives her twin a dull look. She should feel _something_ , but truthfully all she feels is _numb_. "I'm pretty sure that I told you not to come around here anymore," Charlie reminds Quinn who turns to look at her. She didn't want to see her family, though the only people who came to visit her with any sort of regularity was Quinn and her mother. At least Quinn was better than Judy who would fuss over her and then try her hardest not to cry which only made her feel worse. She wondered if she could get them to up the dosage of her meds. She didn't want to _feel_ anything.

Quinn flashes Charlie a smile, it's not forced this time, she's done the research with Rachel, and she had gone on the tours. She had sent detailed reports back to Santana who had made a choice, one that she agreed with but the last hurdle was Charlie. With Santana's stamp of approval it was sure to make Charlie at least consider it. If that didn't work she was going to guilt her sister into saying _yes_ to moving. "I'm pretty sure I stopped listening to you back when we were children."

Charlie sighed and looked at the pamphlets, "What's all this then?" She asked touching one of the brightly colored pamphlets.

"I was serious about finding you some place better so you _can_ get better, where they can actively work on getting you better. Because this place isn't _helping_ you Charlie. People get sick all the time, they get cancer or they break a bone and we go to the doctor all the time. There is _nothing_ wrong with getting help for your head to but you're going to need to work at it. Just like physiotherapy." Quinn said with a bright smile, it doesn't fade when Charlie doesn't smile back. She needs to keep upbeat she needs to be positive no matter what. "You'll be closer to us and we'll be able to visit you more and make sure you're getting the best treatment available."

Charlie picks up one of the pamphlets. "I pointed a gun at the woman I was going to ask to marry me," she says softly. It looks like some fancy spa, and she frowns and drops the pamphlet. "I don't _deserve_ to go to a spa Quinn, I _deserve_ to be locked away where I can't hurt anyone anymore. This is where I belong."

"Come off it Charlie. You don't _deserve to rot here_. You're _sick_ Charlie, you're not broken, and you're not some screw-up. You're _just_ sick. And I know you can get better if you don't give up and work at it. You have something that is treatable and you wallowing in self-pity isn't going to help you get better. There are so many other alternatives to just pumping you full of god knows what." Quinn snaps at Charlie who doesn't seem to notice or care. "You want to know where you belong? Santana picked out a place just or you. She says that's where you belong."

Charlie tenses at the name and looks at Quinn, "You didn't give her my letter did you?" She asks she didn't know where Santana was staying and she had thought Quinn would at least do that for her.

"Of course I did, in fact she gave me a letter to give to you," Quinn said reaching into her pockets and pulling out the first letter and handing it to Charlie.

Charlie held the letter in her hand and looked at Quinn for a moment, not sure if she believed her that this was from Santana. But the handwriting looked like Santana's and it had her name on it and Charlie frowns a bit pondering what to do and then decides to open it. She doesn't hesitate as she opens the letter and pulls out the yellow notepad paper. She unfolds it and reads it. It only has two words written on it. _Fuck You_. Underneath there is a gigantic happy face with devils horns.

"What she write to you?" Quinn asks moving to read over Charlie's shoulder. Her face pales considerably. She should have screened the letter. She certainly wasn't going to give Charlie the other letter now. God knows what was in that one. This could put Charlie back a few months and force her into some catatonic state. She glances at Charlie whose shoulders are beginning to quiver, and it sounds like she sniffled. "Shit Charlie I'm sure she didn't mean—" Quinn tilts her head as Charlie begins to laugh. It's been months—longer than that since she's heard Charlie laugh like this and Quinn takes a step back. Wondering for a moment if Charlie's finally lost it completely.

Her sides hurt, and her cheeks hurt but she can't help but laugh. It's Santana, only Santana would ever be so brazen. She could hear Santana saying it to her face and she can't help but smile. Santana is fine. She thought she had broken her—had traumatized her for life but this was _her_ Santana. "She wasn't happy with the letter I sent her?" Charlie presses Quinn when she finally manages to get her laughter under control.

"She showed up at my apartment at some god awful time in the morning and practically shoved the letters into my hand. I think she thinks you're an asshole. You are an asshole by the way," Quinn throws in there because it seems like a perfectly acceptable time and for a moment she can see _her_ sister again. She's slightly jealous they're identical twins and they've known each other longer but Santana was the one to elicit that response from Charlie. She was right though. If Santana could just see her it would do her twin a world of good.

Charlie quieted down at this and looked at Quinn and then back at the pamphlets. "Which one did she choose for me?" Charlie asks after a moment.

Quinn relaxes at this, "She chose this one." Quinn says pointing to one titled Green Oaks. "It was in my top three, it had excellent reviews some of the best treatment options for people suffering PTSD, and it's in the city so we can visit more often to see how you're doing—"

"Okay." Charlie said after a moment interrupting Quinn.

"Okay?" Quinn says flabbergasted. Charlie hadn't even looked at the pamphlets. "Charlie—I know that we're well off but this place is expensive, you're right it's not a _spa_ , but at the same time you need to _work_ at it. You need to work actively on getting better. That should be your only goal."

Charlie sighed, "I thought this is what you wanted Quinn—"

"What I want is for you to get better and to stop pretending that Santana was the only person you hurt. You're _hurting me_ —for fucks sake I come and visit you and you tell me to go away. You write letters to Santana, you laugh when she tells you to go fuck yourself and I've been here every week for months and I can barely get anything out of you but self-pity." Quinn sighs and closes her eyes. Well there went being positive. She blinks back the tears and begins to shuffle the pamphlets up.

Charlie stares at Quinn and plays with her hands. It's a new nervous tic she's developed since being here. She watches Quinn for a moment and she doesn't quite know what to do. "I'm sorry," Charlie says quietly.

Quinn sighs, "I know—it's not your fault you're sick. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just—I miss you. Santana's not the only person who misses you. People miss you Charlie. When you came back from your last tour—dad shouldn't have given you that gun."

"He didn't make me go crazy." Charlie reminded her.

Quinn didn't say anything to defend him, if Charlie hadn't had that stupid gun, maybe it wouldn't have gotten to this point. Maybe she wouldn't have pointed that gun at Santana. She looks down at the pamphlets. "Do you even _want_ to get better Charlie?"

"I—" Charlie begins and she frowns. "I don't know."

Quinn nods she didn't expect an answer. "You can't get better for me or Santana or Rachel or mom. You need to get better for yourself and you need to learn to forgive yourself." Quinn looks at the pamphlets in her hand Green Oaks is at the top and she hands them over to Charlie. "I'll be back next week and we can talk about your decision then. Look Charlie you can stay here or go to one of these facilities but you just need to start working on getting better. Maybe eat something because you look like shit." Quinn suggests. "Show me _something_ and I'll back whatever decision you make. Alright?" Charlie sighs and nods looking at the pamphlets in her hand and Quinn bites her lip and sighs. She pulls out the second letter. "It's from Santana. I hate going back and forth between you two but if this is what you need to give you a bit of strength then who am I to stop you. Let alone judge?" Quinn says handing Charlie the letter. "Take your time and make a decision. I'll see you in a week." Quinn looks at Charlie and pulls her in for a hug, holding her tightly.

Charlie's quiet for a moment letting her sister hold her, as she slowly hugs back. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?" Quinn asks looking at her.

"I love you," Charlie says after a moment. "Thanks," she mumbles.

"I'm not doing anything that you wouldn't do for me," Quinn admits and looks at Charlie. "I love you too. _Please_ work on getting better and read the pamphlets." Charlie nods and Quinn smiles. It's a small victory but it's her first victory and she'll take it.

* * *

 **AN: Let's take a look at Santana's second letter to Charlie. I promise it's going to be more than a Fuck you. Swear by god. Please review or PM me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you for everyone who has read and review it really makes my day I do hope that you enjoy Part 2 of Santana's letter.**

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Charlie sat on her bed quietly, fiddling with all the pamphlets that Quinn had shoved into her hand and wanted her to go over. She didn't exactly understand what Quinn expected her to do with this information. She wasn't in the right stage of mind to be making decisions of this nature. The pamphlets looked fake, people were smiling and they looked happy, and she felt miserable on the inside.

She wasn't quite sure if it was her own personal feelings on the matter or the drugs. But she didn't want them to stop, she felt guilty enough as it was and they wouldn't increase her dosage, so she just wouldn't _feel_ anything. She looked at the letter that Santana had sent her. It was the most—alive that she had felt in months. Truthfully she couldn't tell how much time had passed since she'd been committed. All she knew was that her hair had gotten longer and she couldn't remember the last time she had been outside. She scratched her arm and bit her lip and tried to focus on reading the pamphlets but her mind was fuzzy and she really didn't care. If Quinn and Santana agreed that Green Oaks was the place that she should be then it was going to be the place that she'd go to.

So she chose to focus on the unopened letter. She had never received two letters from Santana before and she wasn't quite sure— _what_ to expect from Santana's other letter. She imagined there'd be cursing and calling her every name of the sun. It wasn't something that she had ever taken personally it was just—Santana. But there was both a fear—and a hope that Santana would see what she saw whenever she looked in the mirror. Someone that was damaged beyond repair, someone who could have done something far worse than stick a gun in the face of the woman she loved. She was a fucking monster, an abuser, she had crossed so many lines and any sane person should tell Santana that the best thing she could do was leave and not look back. Santana could never trust her again, she didn't understand how not with what had happened. She didn't even trust herself anymore.

So she was scared. Scared that Santana might see her for what she was, damaged beyond repaired. Terrified that Santana would leave her that this was goodbye. And she was scared, absolutely frightened beyond measure that Santana would try and stay. Even if a large part of her wanted her to stay—needed her to stay. She didn't want Santana to waste her life on someone who might never be okay again. She didn't want Santana to stay with her out of pity either.

But most importantly—she needed to know. She needed to know what Santana had to say and she opened the letter. Unlike the last letter which only had two words on it. She could see where the ink had bled through the page. She touched Santana's neat handwriting, swallowing before reading it.

 _In case Quinn screwed up the order of the letters and this is the first letter that you reading. Fuck you. You heard me Charlie. Fuck you. God you're so fucking dense sometimes, it's a wonder I put up with it. But you know why I do? It's because I fucking love you. Read that again, over and over again till it manages to seep into that thick skull of yours. I love you, (despite you pulling stupid shit like this). How could you think that I could just move on?_

 _After everything that we've been through, do you honestly think that I could just cut and run? Just like that? I've fought hard for us. Every fucking care package where I had to drive to forty minutes out just to go to the only place that still sold those discontinued apple pop tarts that you loved, because you couldn't just make do with the fucking strawberry ones. Do you know how scared I was to think that I'd get one of those visits where they would tell me that you weren't coming back? How many times I stayed by the phone, or checked the mail obsessively, or even checked my email to see if you emailed me. Do you know how many times I read the letters you sent me, even with your god awful shitty hand writing? Seriously would it kill you to learn some basic penmanship?_

 _I know you're sorry, I know you didn't mean it and I know you're dealing with the guilt. But I forgive you. I do, because I know that it wasn't you. The person who pointed the gun at me, wasn't you. I know this because you aren't that stupid or reckless, and you know that if it_ _ **was**_ _you, then you'd better shoot me cause I would have fucking kicked your ass. Just like I used to._

Charlie snorts she can't remember any ass-kicking on Santana's part. There had been threats and Santana was terrifying when she was truly angry at someone. It went in stages, and from the writing she could tell that Santana was irritated and one step away from switching to Spanish which was generally around the time she did the smart thing and just bolted. Charlie touches spots on the page where it looked like Santana's tears had hit the page, causing the ink to spread a bit. It just brings a fresh wave of guilt to her body and she feels sick. Her stomach flipping in disgust over her actions. She wipes at her own eyes and sits up, moving to the next page.

 _I know that I haven't come to visit you, but I don't think that I can see you right now. I don't know how to see you in the state that you're in right now. It's shitty of me to say, but I can't see you broken Charlie. I just can't. Remember the day that Quinn introduced us? At your dad's fundraiser for Senate, I mean I totally went for the free food. You were totally there for the same thing. You flashed that smile of yours like you know what you're doing even though you usually don't and tried to hit on me and I ended up laughing my ass off. At you. I was laughing at you. I know you like to tell the story, like I was laughing_ _ **with**_ _you but the reality is I was laughing at you. But it didn't seem to bother you that I was laughing at you. You were still confident that you still went with it, you still had the confidence that you were going to get my number at the end of the night. You know—I gave it to you because even though you knew that Quinn had my number you didn't get it from her, you were dead set on getting it from me. I was attracted to it, that confidence that smile—the determination to charm me enough to get my number, despite the fact that you knew you were failing miserably at this._

 _That's what I need from you Charlie, I need you to be that person again. I need you to be determined to get better. I need you to be confident again. I need you to forgive yourself and work on getting better so you can come home and I can have someone to laugh at. I'm not going anywhere Charlie. You've spent seven months feeling sorry for yourself and wallow in your own self-pity. I've spent seven months without you not being able to see you because I just—I can't. Not like this. I can't see you broken Charlie that would scare me more than anything in the world. So stop trying to be stupid and noble, I'm not going to start dating anyone else. I'm not going to try and move on. I'm going to be here waiting for you to come home. I'll write though—I can write and maybe we can call and talk on the phone if you're allowed to and you're feeling up to it. But if you're going to write back work on your fucking penmanship or use a fucking computer. I am not going to spend hours trying to figure out what you wrote to me._

 _I love you Charlie, I do love you but you're a fucking idiot and you need to pull your head out of your ass and stop being so woe is me. So please get better. Please? I miss you, and I want you home soon._

 _Santana_

 _P.S. Go to the damn facility that Quinn wants you to go to. And maybe work on your penmanship if you have time._

 _P.P.S If you send me one more letter where you're trying to be fucking noble it'll be the last thing you ever do_.

Charlie stared at the letter carefully taking it in the threats and all and she picks up the pamphlet to Green Oak and begins to read it carefully. She _needs_ to get out of here and to get better. She smiles and touches the letter again, she knows exactly what to write back to Santana.

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 **AN: Next time Santana reads Charlie's letter and Quinn continues to play a mailman much to her annoyance. As Charlie moves into her new facility**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for the reviews, I do love them.**

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"So now that I've signed on to do yet another Broadway Classic, I will need someone to help me run my lines and since Quinn is so busy at work—I was thinking that I could come visit you and we can run lines together?" Rachel said looking back at Charlie who was staring out the window. There was just a small box of her stuff beside her. Some clothes, and Santana's letters. Seven months was a long time and even though Quinn had warned her that Charlie looked different. She had still been taken aback by how weak Charlie looked, how haunted her eyes were. But she wasn't going to let that ruin her mood. She should have come with Quinn even though Quinn hadn't wanted to overwhelm Charlie.

"You don't have to go through this alone Charlie. We'll be with you every step of the way making sure you get better. They offer family therapy, music therapy—you can work out, I'm sure the foods better to. They'll start cycling you off your meds so they can get a better look at where you are mentally. You'll have group therapy sessions every day _and_ one on one sessions. Healthy body, healthy mind. Plus you don't have to _earn_ privileges there. You can call whenever you want within reason. They have scheduled times for you to call people or email people. So I don't have to be your mailman Charlie." Quinn says looking in the rearview mirror.

Rachel smiles and nods immediately filling the silence. "They have everything you need Charlie and once the doctors think you're ready you can start signing yourself out and coming and going as you please when you're not supposed to be in therapy. You can see my new show opening up if you get permission and maybe—see Santana?" she suggests reaching to touch Charlie's leg. Charlie immediately flinches away from her, causing Rachel to pause and glance at Quinn. "Charlie are you okay?"

Charlie finally looks at Rachel, she shouldn't be _outside_. She was dangerous. "Are we there yet?"

Quinn looks back, "Charlie you're heavily medicated—there aren't any weapons in the car, you're _safe_. I promise you're safe. You're not going to hurt anyone and you're not going to hurt yourself." Quinn says in a soothing voice. She's quiet for a moment and she bites her lip wondering if Charlie would tell her, what she was afraid of, what she saw last time when she lost it. Everyone had a story and she didn't know what Charlie's was. She didn't talk about it, she had tried to find out but _no one_ in her former unit would talk about it. "Do you want to—talk about it?"

"Of course I don't want to _fucking_ talk about it," Charlie snaps and returns to looking out the window. If she could talk about it then she wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be going to some fancy facility, which would treat her like a child and who couldn't take care of herself. She _couldn't_ take care of herself. She could barely make her own decisions. She closes her eyes and clenches her hand into a fist. "I'm sorry," she manages to get out.

"Oh, by the way I made you some sugar cookies and your mother made you some of your favorite snacks to take in there. I made you a few batches," Rachel said reaching for the bag between her legs and pulling out a Tupperware container that was filled with treats and smiles at Charlie. She hands Charlie the container and looks at Quinn and gives her a small smile, trying to soothe the hurt from her face. It was difficult on all of them and Quinn couldn't wave her magic wand and fix Charlie despite how hard she was trying. She didn't even think that Charlie _wanted_ Quinn's help not really. Which only seemed to hurt Quinn more because she wasn't going to give up on her.

Charlie studies the Tupperware, "Thank you," she says quietly her appetite hadn't completely returned yet and she had to force herself to eat which was not something that she _wanted_ to do. She can feel Rachel's eyes on her again and she pops the top carefully and takes one and puts it to her mouth and puts the cookie in her mouth and chews. Rachel smiles and she hopes that is that because her mouth has a tendency to feel like cotton, a side effect of the many drugs. She's quiet for a moment for a moment and roots through the box and holds out a letter. "I wrote another letter for Santana—if you can give it to her. Please."

Rachel looks at Quinn whose knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and she reaches over to take the letter and gently places a hand on Quinn's leg to calm her down. This wasn't supposed to be easy and she didn't doubt that Charlie was grateful but things were beyond difficult right now and yelling at her wouldn't make her feel better. It would just make the situation worse than it already was. "I think it's sweet that you two are communicating like this. You know Santana was always happy to get your letters when you were on tour. I mean yes she'd complain about your handwriting all the time but she was happy to hear from you." Charlie doesn't say anything and it continues. "You know to Santana, getting a letter from you meant that you were alive. That you were alive and thinking about her and more importantly you'd come home soon. It was never goodbye with you it was just I'll see you next time." Rachel smiles when she sees that she has Charlie's rapt attention. "So she's expecting that you know? She's expecting to see you."

Charlie nods and plays with her fingers studying them, she doesn't know what she should say and she looks horrible and dead. "She can't see me like this—I don't want her to see me like this." Charlie admits quietly.

"Not now," Quinn says after a moment, "When you get better and you don't look like shit."

"Quinn!" Rachel admonishes and Quinn shrugs at her.

"What? Santana told her to go fuck herself. Probably multiple times." Quinn glances back at Charlie. If Santana could say whatever she wanted and be as rude as she wanted to Charlie, then she could do it as well. Charlie tilted her head at her, and Quinn sighs. This wasn't the reaction that she was going for. She wanted to make Charlie laugh and feel better. They had shared a womb, they had shared most of their toys—sort of. Not really. But they had practically shared _everything_. And now things were so different—so broken and she didn't quite know how to fix them. She pulls into the parking lot and looks behind her at Charlie. "We're here. Let's go get you checked in."

Charlie flicks her eyes to the building and rubs her arm slowly before she takes her box of her meager possessions and gets out of the car. It's different from the old place the lawn is cut, there are flowers. And as she walks in she notices how bright the place is. It doesn't feel sterile and there are photos and pictures everywhere. She walks to the front desk with Quinn and Rachel following her, probably to make sure she doesn't bolt and she places her box down on the ground. "Charlie Fabray to check in please," Charlie said to the lady there. It sort of feels like being in a daycare and for the first time in a long time she really just wants to go back home to her tastefully decorated apartment, where if she wanted to play with scissors she could.

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 **AN: Charlie checks in and starts therapy, Santana reads a letter. Stuff happens.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank you so much for all your reviews. Yes we will find out what lead to Charlie's PTSD, but clearly Charlie can't talk about it right now. But she'll be able to.**

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Santana dropped her bag on the table as she _finally_ came home. It was just a month out from the audit and she was still desperately trying to figure out the accounts that she had earmarked, because right now the amounts in that particular account was growing consistently across periods. She sighed, she could figure it out tomorrow, she didn't want to think about it right now. Instead she just wanted to get a good night rest and maybe eat something small, she was sure she still had some celery sticks in her fridge. As much as she hated being worked to the bone, she needed it. She didn't want to think about being forced to come back home early and having nothing to do, except being alone with her thoughts.

She moved to the fridge and opened it, it was practically empty with bottles of water and just carrots and celery sticks, and Santana pulled them out and begin to munch on them as she reached into her purse to read the letter that Charlie had sent to her. She takes a breath and shakes her head at the shitty handwriting and she sighs. Maybe she should go invest in getting Charlie some activity booklets to work on her penmanship. But even though she bitched non-stop about it, it wouldn't be Charlie if she didn't have to struggle to read things over and give up halfway through some words, or mock her about her terrible handwriting. She bit into a celery stick and opened the letter. She blinked at the first line which was the only line that was written neatly and she snorted at it.

 _Strawberry Poptarts taste like ass._ _Is that legible enough for you?_

Santana puts the letter down and closes her eyes, a smile on her face at Charlie's snarky response, she shakes her head. Of course Charlie would focus on the Pop tarts, they had many discussions when she was still over there about which flavor tasted better, Charlie thought it was a travesty that they had discontinued making that particular brand of Pop tarts. Santana exhales and opens her eyes so she can continue to focus on the letter.

 _For your information, I tell people that the day I met you, you fell in love with my charm and wit. That I made you laugh so hard you cried and you were dying to give me your number at the end of it. I played hard to get off course._

Santana stopped reading and rolled her eyes, at this statement and shakes her head. "Oh you wish that was the case," she said with a shake of her head. She wondered if anyone even believed that version of events. She wasn't that smooth no matter how hard she tried to be. She continued on with the letter though there was a huge smile on her face.

 _Don't worry this isn't going to be a letter where I feel sorry for myself, because I really don't want you yelling at me, or 'kicking my ass'. Not that you ever did by the way, you could never catch me to kick my ass—or maybe you were just too lazy to chase me to kick my ass. Either way my ass remains very much not kicked. At least by you anyway. Quinn enjoyed kicking my ass when I was out of line—now she's trying to nurse me back to health and I feel—worthless. I'd rather her yell at me than try and be endlessly optimistic. It's painful for me to see her—but I'm going to Green Oaks. It's supposed to be closer and I might get phone and email privileges—so maybe I can write to you a bit more often and you'll get your wish you know to be able to read what I write._

 _Seven months—is a really long time it didn't feel like it. I'm not quite sure if it feels longer or shorter. I didn't really go outside much, I still don't. But I want to get better—I want to make it up to you. I don't know if I'll ever be able to make it up to you but I want to try. There is so much that I need to say to you—that I have to explain and maybe you can understand but I don't know where to begin Santana. I don't even know how to talk about it with anyone. But I owe you an explanation, I owe a lot of people an explanation so maybe they could understand. I just—I just don't know how. So maybe if you ask the question I can write it down, because I don't think I can actually say the words yet._

 _I can tell you that—here I feel safe. I don't think that's the correct word. Safe. Maybe the word is secure, I don't know but I can't hurt anyone here. I'm scared that if I'm unsupervised that I will. Not intentionally but I think that I may have another—episode. Quinn and Rachel will eventually come and pick me up and take me to this Green Oaks place and honestly I'm terrified that I might lose myself and hurt them. I can't forgive myself for what I did to you—I don't know what I would do if I did something to them. So I'm scared, I'm honestly scared since you brought me back. I don't want to hurt them Santana—I don't want to hurt anyone. By the time you receive this I'll probably be at Green Oaks hopefully incident free._

 _But enough about me, how are you? Really Santana, how are you? Quinn said that you're living by yourself now in a new apartment and that you're busy with your audit? That you look tired all the time, are you getting enough sleep? Are you eating properly? I think with all the medications I'm on it's affecting my eating. I always feel like my mouth is made of cotton and foods lost its taste. I hate it. But I'm pretty sure the food tastes like crap anyway. It looks like dog food._

 _On that cheerful note, I need you to promise me that you'll take care of yourself Santana. That you'll eat right and get enough sleep. I worry about you. I know I'm not your—well you know anymore but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be there to take care of you Santana. So all I can do is ask for you to take care of yourself until you one day trust me—until I trust me to take care of you._

 _Forever your dork,_

 _Charlie Fabray_

 _P.S: I'll have you know that I'm not the only one that thinks the strawberry ones taste like ass. Just ask Quinn, she thinks they taste like cardboard with strawberry chapstick smeared all over it._

 _P.P.S: All this talk of poptarts is making me crave them. If maybe—you can send me a box of apple pop tarts with Quinn that would be amazing._

 _P.P.S.S (Is that even right? Whatever): Make it two boxes, and if you can't get apple, can you pick up some chocolate chip flavored ones?_

Santana stared at the last lines and she snorted, she wasn't going forty minutes out of her way, not with the audit coming up. She taps her fingers, well she did have an assistant who was terrible at his job. Maybe she should just send him. She made a mental note to do just that. She glanced at the celery sticks, it had been all she had eaten all day and she bit her lip trying not to think of how upset Charlie would be. She could just tell her what she needed to hear there was no harm in that. Charlie shouldn't be worrying about her—she should be worrying about herself. Besides if she told Charlie that she was eating healthy food that wasn't a complete lie. That much was true.

She sighed and decided to maybe eat some carrots, there was nothing wrong with eating healthy. She read the letter again carefully, she wanted to ask Charlie a million questions. But overwhelming her was not something that she wanted to do. She would probably start with the most obvious question. What happened over there that she just couldn't talk about? She wondered if she was allowed to share whatever Charlie said with Quinn, she knew that Quinn would want to know and maybe that would help her understand. Charlie needed to talk to Quinn, even she could see the strain that this was putting on Quinn. Maybe help her understand that this wasn't on her to fix.

* * *

 **AN: Thank you for reading, please leave a review. I do enjoy them so much.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks for all the reviews.**

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Charlie Fabray wished that they had _kept_ her on her medications. At least then she could blame this general apathy on the drugs. Because she was _stuck_ right here and right now in a group therapy session with people who probably didn't need to be in therapy. It wasn't like they were schizophrenic or majorly depressed, or even addicted to some substance. It was just a bunch of people who wanted someone to listen to them complain. At least at the old facility there were people like her.

"I know now that what I did was probably a cry for attention from my dad who was never really around. He's always so busy with his work, and I think I just wanted him to notice me."

Charlie Fabray groaned audibly. How could Quinn think _this_ was the place for her? She was a soldier, she wasn't some overgrown child with daddy issues. She had a real problem and she wanted to get better. Maybe she should invest in one of those PTSD dogs, she wondered if Santana would go for it. Santana had been very adamant that they not get a dog because of her various tours and she didn't have time to take care of it. She paused for a second to realize that everyone's eyes were on her including the therapist.

"Charlie Fabray, do you have anything to add? Or a comment to make?" It was the first time that she had spoken up in a week, they had finally tapered her off her various mediations and she seemed more alert lately. This was good, this was very good.

Charlie paused for a moment and looked at all the faces who were peering at her. "My dad never hugged me enough either. In fact pretty sure my dad's the biggest asshole in the world. It's all about the image with him, perfect family, perfect grades. So much pressure to succeed. I think he suffers from small dick syndrome." This is met with laughter from her audience. "Point is, I learned to do my own shit separate from him, and live my own life because ultimately, I'm the one responsible for my choices. Blaming my father for my life choices gives him more power and like I said he already suffers small dick syndrome, so we all know he was going to be an asshole anyway."

The therapist stared at Charlie and sighed, "Charlie we aren't condescending to others here, this is a safe space. And if you can't respect that I'm going to ask you to leave—" he watched as Charlie stood up and began to walk away. "Charlie! Group therapy is an important part of your recovery."

Charlie stopped and turned around. "Maybe if you had other people who were sort of like me, or at least maybe had the same diagnosis even if the circumstances were different." She was definitely going to convince Santana she needed a dog. "Look, I don't think that this is a constructive part of my day, and I _want_ to get better. So I'm going to go wait for my one on one therapy."

"Narcissism?" Suzy Pepper asked and Charlie turned. "Is that your diagnosis? Because you seem to think you're _better_ than us."

Charlie pauses for a moment, "No. I don't think I'm better than you, I know you have problems that you think are super important. I get it, I just don't think _this_ is going to _help_ me. I _know_ that I'm crazy, you don't put a gun to your girlfriends head without your brain being seriously fucked up." Charlie pauses and looks at them seeing the looks of horror on their faces. "So I think that it's best that either I move to a different group, where people are better suited to helping me—or I just stick to one on one therapy." With that Charlie walked off shaking her head. Maybe she could go to the gym to try and work up an appetite, so if Santana saw her she wouldn't be freaked out by the weightless.

* * *

Holly Holiday sighed as she glanced at her file. Charlotte 'Charlie' Fabray had quickly been labelled a problem patient after her failed group session this morning. She couldn't help but chuckle at the small dick remark that she had made in the session, but from how thick her file was it seemed that she had been given the shaft. She wanted to do an assessment of how she was before she started to prescribe any medication if she even needed any. She wondered why she got the 'difficult' patients but she personally doubted that Charlie was as bad as her colleague made her out to be. They had probably stuck her in the wrong group and it was their mistake. Holly opened the door to the gym, where Charlie was currently running on a treadmill, her body was drenched in sweat and she grabbed one of the towels and a bottle of water and approached her calmly. She waited until she had made eye contact with Charlie, who pushed a button and began to slow down reaching out for the towel. "Dr. Holly Holiday, but you can just call me Holly." Holly said as she handed Charlie the towel and the bottle of water. "Charlie—my dad has small dick syndrome—Fabray right?"

Charlie nearly choked on her water and slammed her fist into her chest as she coughed, and flicked her eyes to Holly who was studying her. "If you met him, I'm sure you'd agree with that assessment," Charlie said after a moment, hopping off the treadmill and extended her hand. "Are you my one on one therapist?"

Holly nods, "That I am, Charlie. Don't worry I'm not going to ask you questions about your father and how you feel about him. I think you've already made it pretty clear how that relationship is," Holly said cheerfully watching as Charlie wiped her face. "I do want to get a general assessment though, to see if you do need some medication. Truthfully I think you were on far too many medications the last time. I'm surprised you weren't in a catatonic state when you checked in." She takes a seat on the treadmill across from Charlie and opens her file. "I was doing some reading, your file isn't particularly light. Graduated second in your class in high school right after your twin sister. Graduated from West Point, joined the military right after graduating. You already have several commendations, after seven years. You've done a few tours, and from what I can read your higher-ups were extremely surprised that you decided to quit. They believed that you wanted to make a career out of this. Is that accurate?"

Things change," Charlie said with a shrug. Holly doesn't seem to take this for an answer and she rubbed her hands. "I wanted to ask my girlfriend to marry me. I wanted to have kids and yes I could have done all that while working in the military, but Santana has a good job which pays way more than my job did—and even though she complains about it all the time she does love it—I didn't love the military as much by the time I decided to leave. Asking her to quit her job for me seemed stupid and selfish—she's already sacrificed more than enough."

Holly nods, "Did you have a plan after you got out? With your credentials I'm sure there are many private firms that would be lined up ready to offer you a job."

Charlie shook her head, "I just—I didn't want a job that pulled time that I had from Santana. I got out lucky, I still have all my limbs, I mean I thought I was healthy but I wasn't I was crazy. So for the time being I was content being Santana's—house bitch." Charlie laughed at this. Santana had jokingly called her that and she had gone with it.

"I see that you love her very much, I mean if you agreed to be her house bitch you must really love her." Holly is met with laughter, "Do you want to tell me about her?"

Charlie is quiet for a moment, "She's—like this force of nature and when I first met her—well I don't know how to explain it. It wasn't love at first sight or anything, I wanted to get to know her. She was Quinn—my twin's best friend, and I think at first she was confused because Quinn doesn't exactly advertise that she has a twin sister. This was our first time really apart we were going to different universities, and we were our own people. So I think she was very confused as to why Quinn was suddenly hitting on her. She figured it out though, and well I spent the whole night playing hard to get." Holly snorts in disbelief at this. Charlie flicks her eyes to Holly, "Okay I spent the entire night trying to impress her. It wasn't really going my way, but she thought I was funny and at the end of the night she gave me her number and a kiss on the cheek and told me to give her a call. So I did, the next day I texted her and we had a date where she fell madly in love with me and that was the end of that."

Holly laughed out loud at this, "I'd like to meet this Santana, see how she views these events. Is she going to come to visit you?"

Charlie's smile fades a bit and she wipes her face again. "I put a gun to her head. So no. I don't want her to come and see me like this. See me broken and crazy, I mean she already has an image burned into her skull where I was pointing a gun at her. She doesn't want to see me like this either." Charlie frowns slightly. "She's incredibly stubborn you know, I told her that she should find someone who wasn't bat-shit crazy but she said she wasn't going to. But we write to one another, like we used to when I was on tour. I don't know how to even begin to make it up to her or to fix it." Charlie said and frowned. "I don't even truly think we should be together—I stuck a gun in her face. I mean I deserve to go to jail and isn't that like domestic violence? What if next time I can't control myself, what if next time she doesn't talk me down."

Holly was quiet for a moment, these were excellent questions and she could understand why Charlie was concerned. She wasn't a problem patient, she just had so much going on. "Well, I think there is a huge difference between having someone have a psychotic break and having several other compounding problems and thinking it is acceptable to hit your partner. Unless this was a problem before in your relationship?" Charlie is quiet for a moment and Holly touches her arm. "Charlie I want you to get better and for that to happen I do need to know things that you might not be comfortable with sharing. We are in a safe space."

"I never hit Santana—I mean it was nothing she didn't agree to—that sounds terrible. I mean in our sex life—we are bit—we aren't vanilla. So there was some of that going on. But it usually wasn't taken out of the bedroom."

Holly nods at this. "There's nothing to be ashamed of Charlie, though I can see why you're in a state of distress over this. But there is a difference between what happened to you and what we call domestic violence. The whole purpose of you being here is so that we can learn to manage and deal with your triggers. Though I'm going to be honest, there has been some excellent research done into PTSD and the hope is that before you leave here we can get you back to normal so you won't have to worry about triggers. But we're also going to make sure that you do know how _manage_ your feelings so you don't have another psychotic break."

"And my group therapy?" Charlie asks looking at Holly. "Do I still have to go?"

"Not to that one. I don't think it'll do you any good so we'll try and put together a group that is more suited for your needs." Holly said and smiled. "Don't worry we'll get a program worked out for you."

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 **AN: More letters YEY. I think that's everyone's favorite part, funny stories maybe some things are revealed who knows.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I am so very glad that you're enjoying my story, please do enjoy this chapter.**

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Quinn smiled as she looked at Charlie. The dead look in Charlie's eyes was no longer there, and she looked alert and healthier than she had in the entire eight months. Green Oaks was definitely doing Charlie a world of good, and maybe Charlie would be out sooner than she expected. Quinn pushed her chair out and stood up and pulled Charlie into a tight hug, ignoring Charlie's weak attempt to get away. "You look good Charlie," she said meaning it.

Charlie grunted at this, and patted Quinn's back awkwardly looking around. They weren't huggers, their family wasn't big on the hugging thing and hugging her twin felt weird. Charlie glanced around the visiting room and noticed the box that was on the ground with a letter that had Santana's handwriting on it. She'd recognize it anywhere. "Is that box for me?" Charlie asks renewing her struggle to break away from Quinn.

Quinn stiffened for a moment but pulled away for a moment, "Well it has your name on it. I do want to point out that you two can _email_ each other I am not your mail man. And Santana does have your address of this place she can send you stuff and you can send mail to her office."

Charlie tore open the box and a grinned at mix of apple pop-tarts and chocolate chip cookie pop-tarts. She had only asked for two but Santana had gotten her like six of each. "I love her so much," Charlie said with a sniff as she tore open one of the boxes of apple pop-tarts and tore open the silver packaging and pulled out a pop-tart and bit into it. She groaned and held out the package for Quinn to have one.

Quinn stared at Charlie and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

Charlie chewed on her pop-tart slowly and played with the letter, wanting to read it. "Quinn. You know Santana couldn't trust the post-office with this package. I don't want to eat broken pop-tarts." She flicks her eyes to Quinn. "Besides do you know how _expensive_ Fed-ex and UPS are? You come to visit me every week, it's not like she forced you to come here to visit me and despite my many requests that you stop visiting me you're still coming."

Quinn's jaw set slowly and she takes a calming breath. "Because we're _sisters_."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "Frannie's my sister. She doesn't visit. Even mom doesn't really come and visit me, just you."

"That should _tell you something!"_ Quinn snaps at Charlie, her anger boiling over she wanted to shake Charlie. To smack her to do something that would make her see how much she cared.

Charlie slowly put the box of pop-tarts down and looked up at Quinn. "I already _knew_ how much you loved me Quinn. Do you need a sticker for coming to visit me in the hospital even though I told you numerous times not to come?"

Quinn twitched at this, "You think that I was going to let you face something like this on your own? What was I supposed to do let you rot away in some hospital? Pretend you don't exist like our father is doing? For fuck's sake I _pitied you_ —"

"And that's why I don't want you to come. There is no _we_ in this Quinn. This isn't something that's happening to the both of us. It happened to me. Not you, stop taking it so personally that I'm not my usual self. Stop taking it personally that the drugs that I was on made more than apathetic. They have nurses here and orderlies, I don't need you to be another nurse Quinn. I don't need you to come here and be fake and happy and bouncy all the time. I have PTSD, and I feel guilty as hell. I am _not_ depressed." Charlie said standing up. "I am grateful, I am. At the same time Quinn, I'm literally surrounded by people like me, Hank down the hall is schizophrenic and he hears voices all the time. I need something real from you. I need you to yell at me if you're angry instead of swallowing it. If you have good news then tell me that good news. But don't come down here and expect me to be all bubbly because you're faking it. I get it we're Fabray's that's what we do. By the way our dad suffers from small-dick syndrome. It's a real thing, you should look it up. I diagnosed him myself."

Quinn stared at Charlie her anger deflating a bit, "I don't think that's in the DSM Charlie," Quinn said reaching and taking one of the apple pop-tarts and biting into it. "But it should be, it would explain a _lot_."

"About mom to." Charlie says and hums for a moment and smirks at Quin. "You know in the olden days vibrators were the cure for melancholy."

Quinn chokes on the pop-tart, and feels Charlie pat her hard on the back. "We are _not_ getting our mother a vibrator!"

"Of course not Quinn, that'd be weird. We'll get her a back massager." Charlie says with a sniff and a roll of her eyes.

* * *

Charlie waved to Hank as she headed back to her room with her box placing it on the ground beside her bed. She pulled Santana's letter free and carefully tore it open, as she hopped on her bed, wondering what Santana had said to her. She unfolded the letter and leaned back on the bed and smiled as she began to read.

 _The next time you ask for rare pop-tarts, I am going to get you a massive box of strawberry ones. These had better last you until you can come home and get them yourself. I don't have time to be sending my secretary across town. It's audit season Charlie you know how that goes! I'm busting my ass trying to find details about this account that seems to be growing in size. I can't for the life of me figure it out, and I need to by the end of the month or I'm out of a job._

 _Honestly, work's been a pain in the ass lately. Yeah I've been pulling late hours, but I absolutely need to, I need to figure this out. I need to get things ready for the audit. I'm eating well, healthy and yeah I do miss you being my house bitch though. No coming home to a foot massage, or you drawing me a bubble bath which led to other things. I miss you being around. I saw a spider in my bathroom the other day and it reminded me of the time that I trapped that roach in a glass and waited two weeks until you were back to take care of it for me. That's why you need to hurry up and get better there are bugs that need killing and Quinn refuses to come to my apartment at three am in the morning to kill them for me. Honestly I just think she's a bit of a pussy. Speaking of Quinn you need to talk to her. I think she's jealous that you and I are talking so openly so you need to explain to her that you love her and all that sappy shit that will make her feel better. She does love you a lot._

 _Anyway, Quinn told me about the ride and you didn't freak out, and I know you didn't murder the fucking hobbit. Because she's still fucking on my case about coming to see the new show. Yes I get it, you're a famous Broadway performer and the entire world kisses your short dwarfish ass. I need to think of a good excuse to not go see her performance because you know my_ _ **career**_ _being on the line doesn't seem to be a good enough excuse. You got out of going to your families insane Fourth of July bash. So think of something Charlie!_

 _While you wrack your mind for an excuse to get me out of going to Rachel's performance, I'm going to remind you that shit happens. Sure this was more shit than we're used to dealing with, but you're getting better right? I mean this Green Oak's place is supposed to be really good and Quinn said they started to take you off your meds right? Do you feel like your old self even a little bit? Are you eating—you'd better be because that box of pop-tarts was expensive! And I had to give my assistant a huge lunch break to go fucking get them. Rachel mentioned you lost a lot of weight and I man you were already fit to begin with—and I honestly can't believe that I'm saying this but please gain at least twenty pounds. But you need to keep your abs, as my house bitch you need to have abs._

 _You're probably rolling your eyes, but the truth is Charlie—I miss you. I mean yeah, you're handy around the house and you give some of the best massages, but I miss you. I miss you taking care of me, and loving me and hugging me even when I feel like murdering you. I miss all the irritating things that you do that you_ _ **know**_ _gets under my skin. Your snoring, the way you stick your cold feet under me when you crawl into bed. The fact that you still don't understand how irritating it is when I find cereal in the bed because you decided to sit there and watch Saturday morning cartoons all day. The fact that you say you're going to fix the cupboards but end up making it far worse before you actually somehow manage to fix them (so we're clear this applies to everything you say you're going to fix). I even find myself listening to some of your music, which still sucks by the way, but it makes me think about you. I even miss you fighting with me over which radio station to listen to in the car._

 _I think this is slightly better than when you were stationed over there. I know you're not going to come home missing limbs, I know you're not going to come home in a body bag. I know where you are, you're in some fancy spa-like facility getting therapy and getting better. It's easier for me knowing that you're going to get the best attention. The hardest part is not knowing when you're going to come home though. Or if you're going to change drastically—if you're still going to be the same person I fell in love with._

 _You wanted me to ask you a question so you knew where to start? I have so many questions that I want to ask you. So I figured I would ask the most important question first. Like this is the most important question I could ever ask. How the hell did you avoid getting sunburned while you were over there? With your pasty white ass—and I know how much you hate sunblock because it smells funny. I'd rather you smell funny then get skin cancer by the way so if you're going outside wear it!_

 _Try not to be an asshole,_

 _Santana_

 _P.S: Now if you can figure out your penmanship that would be fucking amazing_

 _P.P.S: Seriously though figure things out with Quinn and come up with a decent excuse so I don't have to go to Rachel's performance._

Charlie began to laugh at this and folded the letter up gently, she stopped for a moment before laughing again and getting up to write Santana an email, so she could stop getting complaints about her handwriting. She put the letters away and closed the door to her room and headed to the computer lab which was always supervised and signed in. She moved to one of the empty computers and signed into her email account. It was flooded with messages.

It was the first time in months that Charlie had logged on and she bit her lip. One day she'd start going over all five hundred and ten messages but first she wanted to send Santana an email. She looked at the side bar and paused and stared at the little green circle that said that Santana was online. She looked around and swallowed and stared at the green dot. Charlie exhaled slowly and gathered her courage and clicked on Santana's name the little window popping up where she could chat with her.

There were so many things that she wanted to say to her, to apologize to maybe see her face, but there was no webcam. She just needed an opening, something funny and witty to say that would have Santana laughing that would break the ice and ease her fears that she was going to come out different.

 **Charlie:** Hey?

Charlie stared at the pathetic opener and groaned, that was not what she was going for at all. She waits for a moment, which turns into two then three and she sighs. Maybe Santana was away from her computer and she didn't know how long she could stay online until the orderly came to make sure she wasn't looking at porn or anything. She's about to exit the small chat window when she sees something at the bottom.

 _Santana is typing…_

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 **AN: Did I just do a cliffhanger. I am a terrible person. I am a very terrible person. I think you can all figure out what comes next.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thank you for all your reviews. Do enjoy this chapter. I was going to try and do it as chat speak from Charlie's end but as a writer I actually cringed, so you get full sentences.**

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 **Charlie:** Hey?

Santana tilted her head up and glanced at the open pop-up on her computer, she really did hate that little alert noise. She rubbed her eyes, she had spent the better part of the morning just pouring over documents dating back a few months. She let out a frustrated sigh and turned to face her computer, about to tear into whoever had dared to interrupt her. If it was Quinn she was going to—Santana freezes and stares at the chat-window.

Minutes tick by and Santana immediately sits up straight and begins to straighten her hair, she's about to go into her purse and grab her make-up bag when she stops and remembers that Charlie can't see her. She looks at her bag and rolls her eyes at her actions. She hadn't done this since they started dating, she had stopped when she realized that it was _just_ Charlie. The same person who would go to the mall in pajama pants to pick up groceries if she hadn't put a stop to that behavior.

Santana stares at the pop-up before realizing that Charlie might think she wasn't around and slip offline. She bites her lip wondering what to say to her. She doesn't want to overwhelm Charlie with a hundred questions so she just writes the first thing she can think of.

 **Santana:** Well at least this is easier to read.

Santana stares at what she wrote and groans immediately, she hadn't wanted to be an asshole right off the bat. Why didn't she just say—

 **Charlie:** LOL

Santana pauses for a moment and then relaxes and smiles, she had worried that their humor wouldn't be the same anymore. That she was a bit to bitchy for Charlie, but it seemed that hadn't changed. She's about to write something back, when she sees that Charlie is typing again.

 **Charlie:** Thanks for the pop-tarts. I'll make sure to ration them so they last me a long time.

Santana snorts at this and leans forward to type a response, she had probably been like a kid at Christmas to open the box. She had always been _incredibly_ easy to please, though it might have been that Charlie just took pleasure in the simpler things in life. Santana smiled and began to type her response.

 **Santana:** Good, because like I said, you're just going to have to make do.

 **Santana:** How are you? How's the center? Are you ever going to tell me about how you managed to keep yourself from getting sunburned?

 **Charlie:** I'm, doing better. I'm not on any drugs so that means that I'm hungry all the time. You don't have to worry about the abs though. I did get sunburnt. But once it finished peeling and I stopped looking like a lobster, I'd get my tan.

 **Santana:** You are an idiot. You do realize that skin cancer is a real thing. Wear the sun screen if you're going outside Charlie. Look if you need to get you some I can pick some up.

 **Charlie:** I don't really go outside anymore. And even if I did, you have your audit to worry about. I know you're busy. I just wanted to say thank you and maybe talk to you in real time without having to deal with Quinn.

 **Santana:** You know you need to work that out with her, and speaking of Quinn and Rachel have you thought of an excuse so I don't have to go?

 **Charlie:** You do remember I was stationed in Iraq for that event. I told you to just avoid Quinn like the plague, you're the one that opened the door for her.

 **Santana** : I'm hearing excuses Charlie not solutions to my very real problem.

 **Charlie:** Santana you have a family which you can see any time you want. Just say your mother's sick or something.

 **Santana:** I used that for Christmas.

 **Charlie:** Your family just realized that my father is a bigot and thinks you're an illegal and they're telling you to stay away from me? So Romeo and Juliet.

 **Santana:** That was the thanksgiving three years ago Charlie. You had just come back from a tour just in time for thanksgiving and like everyone wanted a piece of you.

Santana waits and then she gets an emoji with a smirk on its face and she rolls her eyes. Of course Charlie's mind went there. That hadn't been why she brought it up.

 **Charlie:** If I remember correctly we dropped off the face of the earth, and went up to the cabin for a few days. I'm pretty sure the things we did together were very close to criminal.

 **Santana** : So we're clear I am not having chat sex with you Charlie or phone sex.

She's rewarded with a pouty face, and another one and she laughs a bit, nothing had changed at all. She rolls her eyes at this and leans back in her chair.

 **Charlie:** That's not any fun Santana.

 **Santana:** And you're not any help Charlie. I really am too busy to go see the Hobbit's Broadway production.

 **Charlie:** So just don't go? What's Rachel going to do? Come to your office and kidnap you? She's secretly scared of you, and you have my permission to kick Quinn's ass so she'll leave you alone.

Santana snorted at this, kicking Quinn's ass might release some pent up frustration, and Rachel had the right idea giving her plenty of space unless she wanted to deal with Rachel's sunny disposition. Which she didn't.

 **Santana:** I'd rather kick your ass

 **Charlie:** I thought you said we weren't going to have chat sex? I mean I'm game if you are. –Pulls off shirt–

Santana clasped her hand over her mouth, to stop herself from laughing out loud, but she couldn't stop the laughter. But it was far too late and she began to laugh, it was the hardest she'd laughed in ages and she could feel her sides aching and her vision blurring.

 **Charlie:** Santana, I know you're so turned on right now, but we've got to focus on the task at hand. –Slowly unzips pants-

She was going to die, Charlie was going to be the death of her and she nearly fell out of her chair laughing. She missed this. She took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself.

 **Santana:** You are the biggest dork in the entire world

 **Santana:** So we're clear still laughing at you not with you

 **Charlie:** I'm still your dork though? You haven't found anyone equally as dorky as I am?

Santana was quiet for a moment studying the words for a long moment, and bit her lip. She wondered if that was because Charlie was terrified, if she was worried that she'd be changed to. But talking to her, like this made it seem like nothing had changed.

 **Santana:** Impossible. Besides what happened to go find love elsewhere and all the other noble bullshit you were spouting.

 **Charlie:** I was heavily medicated at the time.

 **Santana:** And now?

Santana waits for a few moments and she has to wonder if she's scared Charlie away, but it's Charlie so that's probably not quite the case and she waits till she sees that Charlie is typing. That disappears after a second and Santana can imagine that Charlie was debating what to write. She's about to prod Charlie again but finally she sees her writing again.

 **Charlie:** I wanted you to know that you could walk away and there'd be no hurt feelings, that I'd be okay. I would understand why you chose to leave, maybe it's the smart decision. It'd certainly be easier than waiting for me to get better.

 **Santana:** I put far too much time and effort into you to start looking for someone else.

 **Charlie:** Please you wouldn't have to look for very long, you're smart, you're funny as hell, and you're absolutely gorgeous. You'd have someone wrapped around your finger in a day maybe two.

 **Santana:** It'd take me a _week_ minimum. But none of those people would be you.

 **Charlie** : Your house bitch?

 **Santana:** Damn straight. My dorky house bitch.

Santana is about to type something else to Charlie when there is a knock on the door and she looks up, ready to tear into someone for interrupting her. It's the happiest she's been in months and she just wants it to last a bit longer. She frowns ever so slightly when she sees Quinn.

 **Santana:** Your sister's here.

 **Charlie:** Tell her we're in the middle of having some torrid chat sex that she can wait outside till we're done.

Santana turns to Quinn, "Your sister and I are having chat sex, it's heating up. So if you could just wait outside for like twenty minutes."

Quinn eyed Santana and pinched the bridge of her nose, the things that she had to put up with. "Tell her I brought you lunch."

Santana glances at the bag in Quinn's hand for a moment, she always did this, and she sighed and looked at the computer for a moment.

 **Santana:** She brought me lunch and I don't think she's going to leave.

Santana stops and glares at Quinn for a moment hoping it scares her away but Quinn rolls her eyes and approaches her desk placing the bag on it and taking a seat.

 **Santana:** She's making herself comfortable.

 **Charlie:** Good eat, I need to go anyway the orderly is eying me funny. I think he has a problem with the fact I'm smiling like an idiot.

Santana frowns at this she doesn't want to go eat with Quinn, she's not even really that hungry, it's been far too long and she wants to ask Charlie to stay but that sounds far to needy for her. She's Santana Lopez she doesn't do needy.

 **Santana:** When can we do this again?

Well until now that is. She sighs and rubs her hands looking at the chat window.

 **Charlie:** Depends on whether the computer is open during my free time. But I'll try to do this again tomorrow. Or maybe I can call you? I don't quite know. I don't have my phone so send me your office number?

 **Santana:** I'll email it to you and my cell number.

 **Charlie:** I'll try and call you maybe later tonight, before this part of facility closes down for the night.

 **Santana:** Alright I need to go now. But I love you. I miss you. Get better.

 **Charlie:** I love you more, I miss you more and I'm working as hard as I can to get better.

Santana watched as Charlie popped offline and looked at Quinn, " _Really?"_

Quinn smirked, "You handed me a box of pop-tarts to take to her today, so _yes_. I am not your mailman."

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 **AN: Stuff. I like reviews, so if you like this story shoot me a review or a PM.**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you for the reviews I do hope that you're enjoying this story, so let's get right to it.**

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"So you really don't want to discuss your father, and we've sort of talked about Santana, but what about your other family? I see you're getting a visit from your sister every week. Which is good having the support of your family is good. You're not quite alone in this fight," Holly said, while she wanted to dive straight into Charlie's issue. Building trust was far more important to her and understanding Charlie completely would lead to a sharper image.

Charlie studied Holly for a moment and then quickly settled into her chair some more. "I didn't _want_ Quinn to come visit. But she never listens to me. We got into an argument earlier but we solved it. Well no, it's not solved but it is what it is."

Holly noted that down, watching as Charlie watched her scribble it down. "Why don't you want to see your sister? Most of our patients are happy to see their family, or at least certain members of their family. Did you have a tense relationship with Quinn?"

"No we're identical twins, I love her. I know she loves me. She's just completely unbearable right now and I know she's doing whatever she thinks is necessary to get me back into good health. But I don't need another nurse. I don't need Quinn to _pity_ me. I would rather her act like she normally does. When I'm healthy—our family isn't the talk about your issues type and Quinn trying to force me to talk to her bothers me. I never talked to her before about this stuff, I talked to Santana. She can't suddenly expect me to change, I don't even want to talk to her about this stuff. I don't want every conversation that we have for the rest of my life to be about my mental health. I'm not depressed, I'm not suicidal. I'm just crazy."

Holly sighed slowly, "Charlie, you have PTSD and you had a psychotic break. You aren't crazy and you can get better. Talking about it and perhaps some medication might help ease your symptoms till you are symptom free. From what I gather you haven't even had a psychotic break or even a panic attack in months."

"I was heavily medicated, I can't remember sleeping without taking something that knocks me out cold, so I don't remember anything that I dream of. I'm not like—bat shit crazy but I don't want to be out there in case I do snap again and this time Santana can't talk me down. Because if I hurt her—or Quinn or Rachel well—it's not going to go well for me."

"We're not going to let it get to that Charlie. Like I said to you earlier PTSD, is treatable. And I know that you're former military and your father is an enormous supporter of the second amendment, but I would personally suggest removing all firearms from your apartment once you do leave Green Oaks. Easy accessibility to firearms especially when you're in a heightened emotional state does not usually bode well for any of the parties involved." Holly said, she half expected Charlie to start going on about her right to bear arms.

"I was going to do that anyway. I don't think I can touch another gun ever again," Charlie admits simply. She had never understood how other people could be so careless. She certainly hadn't thought to much about it, she'd been around guns her entire life. But she had always firmly believed that crazy people shouldn't have guns to begin with. She was now officially a crazy person.

"You have a choice to pick up a gun or to never touch another gun. That's your choice Charlie, the main reason you're here isn't because you have a phobia of guns. It's to make sure that if the situation ever arises where you do feel panicked, where you are triggered accidentally your response to that is appropriate." Holly said calmly watching Charlie. "Do you want to talk about _what_ triggers you?"

"No," Charlie said immediately. "I don't even want to think about it. I don't want to revisit that day again. Ever again."

"Charlie, I know that it's difficult for war veterans to talk about these things. I also know you're terrified of whatever it was that happened that day, but the best way to learn to control your response, to find out what your triggers are, is _to talk about it_. The more you talk about it the more you realize, the fear goes away, and the flight or response becomes dulled." Holly said and studied her. "We don't have to talk about it today or tomorrow, but we are going to have to talk about it eventually Charlie. You're going to need to talk about it eventually." Holly said gently.

Charlie exhaled slowly, she didn't want to think about it. She was busy trying to lock that memory in a chest and lose the key. She didn't want to relive that day over and over again. "I—killed someone. I know I'm a soldier, we kill people, and I had before. At least I think I did, I'm not quite sure in the heat of battle."

"So what made this person special?" Holly asked.

Charlie closed her eyes, she could already smell the sweat and the sand. The blood, images flash in front of her eyes and her breathing picks up as she begins to panic. She hears the gun shot ring out—and she suddenly feels Holly's hand on her arm. She opens her eyes, and she can't remember standing up and she shivers. She hates feeling so out of control.

"It's okay, you're safe Charlie. You're not there. You're in New York, you're okay," Holly said soothingly as she begins to pull Charlie back.

"I—I can't," Charlie whispers.

"That's okay—it's okay Charlie. You'll be fine, we don't have to do it today. We can come back to this when you feel safe and secure. You'll be okay." Holly repeats trying to soothe Charlie who pulls away and curls back up on the couch a haunted look on her face.

* * *

"I'm not going to go to dinner with the grandson of someone you go to church with," Santana said, she didn't have time for this conversation. The smart decision would be to pretend that she was in a tunnel but she hadn't talked to her abuela in _months_. She had felt guilty. She no longer felt guilty.

 _'_ _Santana, it's been nearly a year. It's time for you to move on now, Antonio is a lovely young man and is just finishing his residency in plastic surgery. He's successful, he's a good man. Comes to church whenever he's not working. It's just one dinner. If you don't like him then you don't like him, but you need to get yourself back out there.'_

Santana took a deep breath. "Back out where?" I barely have time to have fun, because I'm working ninety hour weeks until after the audit is done. Even my weekend aren't even my own. Let's also not forget the fact that I am currently in a relationship with Charlie who I _love_ very much."

 _'_ _Santana, I'm telling you this because I love you and I need you to listen to me. You need to cut your losses, you didn't marry her. She didn't put a ring on your finger. I know you've been together for a long time, but people like that—they're broken. They're broken and there is no fixing them. She didn't have a job Santana, she was living off your money—and then what? Do you really want that? Someone who doesn't contribute at all financially? She's a leech and people like that—and it won't be long till she turns to alcohol or drugs, and then where will you be?"_

Santana sighed they'd had this argument months ago. "I make plenty of money for us to live more than comfortably and Charlie has savings and I'm sure she mentioned a trust fund, we'll be fine financially. I love her and I know what she did, I have to live with that. I can live with that because I should have realized something was off sooner. She wasn't doing well and I didn't notice—and I hope that she can forgive me for being so wrapped up in my life to not notice how she was struggling. As for Charlie finding a job, she'll get one when she's ready. Right now she's getting better. I talked to her—and she's still the same person I fell in love with." Santana flipped through the files in front of her. "She's not broken. She isn't. Charlie's always been a fighter, has always gotten back up, always smiled in the face of adversity, and now that she's not on medication. She's getting closer to that person again. So no, I'm not going to betray her. Or leave her when she needs me."

' _You've been to see her then?'_ Alma said with a sigh, this wasn't going to be easy then but she did honestly fear for her granddaughter's safety. Her son and her daughter-in-law weren't doing enough to drag Santana to her senses.

Santana winced, she knew she should lie but she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Well no, but we're going to talk on the phone later tonight—and Charlie doesn't want me to see her and I don't want to see her like that—"

 _'_ _Santana, if you truly thought that she was getting better, if you truly loved her and this wasn't just a phase that you were going through, then you'd have visited. Even if she didn't want you to. But you know deep in your heart, that how can you be safe with in a relationship with someone who has pointed a gun at you. If you don't feel safe with her or trust her, how can you ever be with her? You need to think seriously about your future. I don't want to have to visit you in the hospital or worse bury you because you're being foolish. She will snap again and next time, she might do something unthinkable.'_

Santana sighed she could spend the next few hours arguing with her abuela, but she just needed to get back to work. "I have to go—I'll try and visit after the audit is done. I'm currently swamped," Santana said dismissively. Charlie _wasn't_ going to hurt her. Even at her worst, Charlie had never hurt her. She had to believe that Charlie would always come back, would always manage to stop herself. "I love you." With that Santana quickly ended the call and sighed slumping back in her chair. That hadn't been pleasant and she didn't want to try and confuse the issue. Her abuela had never approved to begin with. She didn't understand why she should start now. She loved Charlie, and sure Charlie may not have proposed but that didn't mean anything. It was Charlie, she probably wasn't ever going to do it to begin with. It just wasn't that big a deal to her.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at it, hoping that it was someone that she actually liked. Or Charlie—even though Charlie didn't have a phone. She wondered if she should call Green Oaks, to see if it was okay to get Charlie a cellphone. Then she could talk to Charlie whenever she wanted and vice versa. She smiled and picked up the phone and frowned, she had wanted someone she _liked_ not someone she barely tolerated because Quinn had decided to be weird and marry a weird cross between a hobbit and a dwarf. It was Rachel pestering her again about coming to the opening of her damn show. She sighed, Rachel would do this forever.

 **Santana:** Fine, now leave me alone.

She tossed her phone back onto her table, she bit her lip and eyed her paperwork for a moment and then glanced at the phone. Well there was no harm in asking right? Charlie wasn't in prison. She should be allowed to have a phone.

* * *

 **AN: We'll see where the next chapter takes me. Stuff happens though. Anyway please review. Anyway, for the people who are reading this story, and since it's the one that I chose to update, you do get something nice. Two sneak peeks of two stories that are waiting. So shush, keep it a secret.  
**

 **Demons:** **Why must humans have this obsession with blood? It's always killing this and sacrificing that because you think it makes us happy. It doesn't. It is disgusting and it smells bad, and I'm sure that you've finally figured out that it's completely unsanitary.**

 **Want to Want me:** **"Pics or it didn't happen!" Santana flushes and pulls out her phone where she has a picture of her with Charlie Fabray's lips pressed to her cheek. "I know this is the _best_ birthday present ever." Santana said excitedly as Puck's eyes widen. "Thanks for the fake ID," she says with a smile. "It was totally worth being grounded for a month."**

 **Oh and everyone who is bemoaning the fact that I haven't updated, well it's a coming, several huge updates. 25 to Life. Beautiful Pain, another chapter of Glittering Clouds, Everywhere, I forget what else, maybe Love the Way You lie. Honestly I have no idea, but I wrote a bunch. So we'll see. Oh and two new stories.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Yes I know this is a short chapter. There is a reason for this. Thank you for the reviews.**

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Quinn eyed the new phone that Santana had gone out of her way to purchase for Charlie and shook her head. The two of them were so in love that it was sickening. She was glad that they were talking now, that they were dealing with their demons. Hopefully the phone would be the last package that she'd have to bring Charlie, now that they were talking on the phone and email. Santana seemed _happier_ , and more relaxed at work whenever she popped by. And Charlie looked healthy and present and good. She hadn't had an episode in months and Holly Holliday said that they were making progress.

Progress was good, progress meant that Charlie could finally leave the crazy house and they could all pretend that this had never happened. Charlie would finally propose to Santana like she was going to before she had lost it. Santana would accept they'd have a few children and everything would be _right_ with the world. Which was why she was taking matters into her own hands. Santana's presence in Charlie's life was accelerating her progress, and they were only talking on the phone and emailing each other. They needed to meet face to face. Santana would see Charlie just like she had been and Charlie could see that Santana had truly forgiven her and all would be right with the world once more.

She understood that it might be considered manipulative, but she was doing it with the best intentions. Besides, she had talked to Holly who had thought it was a good idea to get Charlie out of the facility so long as she'd be supervised. She needed to start learning to trust herself. Especially around Santana. Quinn adjusted the program for Rachel's latest show. She probably _should_ have told Rachel about her plan but she didn't want anyone to question it. Especially since Charlie was her twin and she seemed to be the only who seemed to care enough that she got the right treatment. Everyone else in her family was simply twiddling their thumbs hoping the problem would go away without actually _doing_ anything about it. So she got to make this call and this was the right decision. Just _seeing_ Santana would do wonders and who knew the moment that it happened maybe Charlie would be out in a month or two afterwards. All she needed was a reminder of what she was missing and how much Santana needed her.

She pulled into the parking lot of the Green Oaks facility and grabbed the program and the phone, and got out of the car making sure to lock it. She head inside to make sure that the phone that Santana had gotten for Charlie was okay. It was something simple, one of the slide phones with a small keyboard so they could text and call. There was no internet, and the camera had been disabled. She smiled at the orderly who handed the phone back to her and gave her the all clear and she exhaled slowly. Now all she needed to do was make her way to the visitor area and wait for Charlie to finish whatever she was doing and come and see her. She adjusts the program ever so slightly so it's on top of the phone and waits tapping her fingers and checking her phone.

She's been missing a lot of work lately, and with all the going back and forth between Green Oaks and the city. But it was like no one was noticing that she was struggling. Charlie seemed to be dragged back into Santana's orbit and vice-versa. Santana didn't like being near her because her identical twin had placed a gun to her head. Her life was complicated and even Rachel was pushing for something that she wasn't quite able to give. The talk about children, she couldn't deal with looking at donors on top of everything else. She just—she needed things to go back to normal so that she could move on with her life.

"Has it been a week yet?" Charlie asked from where she had a towel wrapped around her neck. She'd been in the weight room working out by herself when they had found her. She frowned because it had only been a few days since she'd seen Quinn. "Did something happen?"

"No—Santana wanted to make sure you got this phone is all," Quinn said holding it up. "We checked and you're allowed to have it. It doesn't really do much but you'll be able to text her and call her as much as you want. You can call me if you want as well and Rachel—our numbers are preprogrammed into the phone." Quinn said tossing the phone to Charlie who caught it.

"So I can stay in my room and have phone sex with her now? Awesome." Charlie says with a pleased smile.

Quinn rolled her eyes and held up the program for Rachel's Broadway performance. "I talked to your therapist and she said that maybe we should try getting you out more. So I thought that we could try one of Rachel's performances. She'd be really happy to see you in the audience. I can get you something that you can wear, we can make a night of it. Maybe have dinner, you know enjoy a show before I take you home. I'll be with you the entire time Charlie. It'll be fun. And you're going to need to start getting used to the outside world Charlie. You're going to need a job—you're going to need to start interacting with people. It's just one night. But it'll be good for you."

Charlie paused and took the program, "A night out?" she echoes looking at it.

"Please Charlie?" Quinn asked. "You're not going to hurt anyone, you haven't had an episode in a long time. It's a comedy—you'll laugh, you'll have fun. You'll get to dress up we can—"

"Go to Chipotle?" Charlie asks looking at Quinn who flashes her a grin.

"We can go to Chipotle if you really want to," Quinn says. "Will you think about it?"

Charlie makes a face, she's not completely sure that this is a good idea but she nods. "I'll go—but you have to promise that we'll go to Chipotle. And maybe we can stop by the apartment—just so I can check on some things. Can we do that?"

"We'll make a day of it if that's what you really need," Quinn says with a smile, she gets up. "It'll be my treat. So don't worry about it."

Charlie nods and grins at Quinn. "Thanks. You know you should probably get back to work though. You don't want to get fired because you're missing so many days. I'll call you for more details."

Quinn grins at this. "Alright I'll see you then Charlie."

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 **AN: It's been nearly ten months but Charlie and Santana finally come face to you like this story please review  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Ooh thank you for the reviews, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Charlie fiddled with the sleeves on her shirt nervously. She felt almost normal in regular clothes instead of what they had her wear in Green Oaks, but she wasn't normal. She knew it. She glanced around the entrance to the auditorium where there were people still milling about. There were more people here and she fiddled some more, too many people. This had been a _shitty_ idea. But she had done it because she was grateful to Quinn for coming every week, even if she was being a shit about it half the time with all her complaining and making her feel like shit. "Did we really have to get here so early Quinn? And why am I so dressed up?"

"There's nothing wrong with getting dressed up Charlie, everyone else is. It's one of Rachel's shows and I think she'd like to see you looking like your old self again." Quinn said turning and running her hand along Charlie's shoulder picking at a bit of fuzz on the shoulder. "Look, you got the ring that you bought for Santana back. Things are _good_ , you're good. And we live in New York Charlie. There's always a lot of people around."

"It's been awhile Quinn, and I know that there are always people around but _still_ , I just—I don't want to cause a scene if I have an episode or something." Charlie says quietly. "I don't think Rachel would appreciate that if I freaked in one of her monologues. Though honestly it would probably make everything a bit more interesting."

"Look we've got seats very close to the exits, so if you feel like it's too much you can just leave and get some air. Rachel isn't going to get upset," Quinn said rubbing Charlie's arm. "You'll be fine. Remember what mom always said? Look good on the outside—feel good on the inside."

"Mom gives terrible advice." Charlie said dryly.

Quinn laughs at this, "She tries her hardest Charlie. She'll be happy to see you out of there it's been hard on her. All of this has been hard on her."

"Yes well, imagine how I feel," Charlie said snippily and sighs. "We should have gone to Chipotle before you dragged me to this."

"I promise that we can go after the performance. I know, you really wanted to go Charlie but, we were running late. I'm sorry, but I promise you'll get your dinner before I have to take you back. Have you at least had _some_ fun today, and more importantly you haven't freaked out yet. I think, that Holly will be pleased to hear that report right. It's a sign you're getting better right?" Quinn says hopefully.

Charlie stares at Quinn and sighs, "That's not actually how it works Quinn. I was more or less fine before my break. I mean yeah I had nightmares and there were periods when I would like flash back there, but I figured those would just—go with time. It got worse, I snapped. All because I look good on the outside doesn't mean that I'm fine on the inside. My heads still a mess. I still take drugs to sleep so I don't dream. I just—I'm not better Quinn. I'm just—stuck."

Quinn frowned ever so slightly, "Well hopefully a good night out will help you work through some stuff," Quinn said patting Charlie firmly on the shoulder.

Charlie sighed and reached into her pocket fingering the velvet box that she grabbed, Quinn had a point, and she needed to keep moving forward in her own way. Positive thoughts so she could rework things with Santana and get to the point where she could ask her to marry her. She needed to get better. "Yeah you may be right."

Quinn's about to say something when a flash of red catches her eye and she smiles and shakes her head. Of course Santana _needed_ to make an entrance. "Thank god she decided to show up." Quinn said and Charlie frowned ever so slightly. She's about to turn to look at who she was referring to and Quinn places a hand on her shoulder stopping her. "You need to look forward Charlie."

"There you are Quinn, I bloody hope you and the _fucking_ hobbit appreciate this. And it had better be good, I'm so fucked at work and yet here I am enjoying the bloody theater like my job isn't on the fucking line."

Charlie stiffened at the voice, she had heard that voice every day lately, they were talking on the phone but she wasn't _ready_. She flashes a betrayed look at Quinn, because she set her up. She knows her twin better than anyone and she knows that all of this—bonding and shit that Quinn had spouted all day was just some bullshit so she could do this. She shrugged Quinn's hand off her shoulder and turned to look at Santana. She was beautiful, but then again Santana always had been and for a moment Charlie gets lost in the moment. But that moment disappears, when Santana stiffens when she finally notices her presence. Maybe there's a bit of fear and shock but she doesn't care to find out. And Charlie does the only thing she can think of, she turns around and runs, shrugging off Quinn's attempt to grab her arm and keep her there.

" _Charlie_." Quinn says about to follow her and bring her back. She hadn't predicted that Charlie would just—run away. She moved quickly, and manages to grab onto Charlie's arm and she feels Charlie's panic for a moment and she tries to hold her down holding grabbing onto Charlie to keep her relatively calm. "It's okay. It's okay Charlie. I promise it's ok—" There's a crunch as the back of Charlie's head slams into her face, and she hears a crunching noise and she immediately let's go to clutch her nose. " _Fuck_." She hisses.

Santana exhaled slowly and glanced around at the people who were staring at the scene, "Nothing to see here," she says in a tone as she walked to Quinn, flicking her eyes to the bathroom that she was sure Charlie barricaded herself in. "Judging from her reaction Quinn, she _wasn't_ expecting me. But you knew that I was coming tonight," Santana said touching Quinn's shoulder and hauling her up. "If that's the case Quinn then a broken nose is the least of your worries."

"I was trying to help," Quinn said.

Santana closed her eyes and counted to fifty and then did it backwards just to make sure she didn't cause an even bigger scene. "She's _working_ on it Quinn, maybe not at your pace but she was _fucking_ work on it. I swear to god if you've set her back, I'm going to kill you." Santana says her voice still low. "Now go sit down and watch your wife, and when Rachel asks where I was, you tell her that you fucked up. Cause you did. Now I'm going to _once again_ talk Charlie down from her current freak out."

"She's my _twin."_ Quinn said still holding her nose.

"Quinn, you and Charlie are close, but you're also Fabray's you don't talk about your feelings with each other. That has _never_ been your relationship with her. In case you haven't realized the Fabray method _doesn't_ work for anything really. So you've done _enough_ damage. Go watch your wife." Santana said and walked to the bathroom and tested the door but it was clearly locked. "You know Charlie, if I were any other woman. I'd be completely offended that you ran away the moment you saw me. It was like you saw the devil." Santana smirks when she hears someone snort on the other side of the doorway.

Charlie's smile fades a bit after the initial amusement, "You aren't supposed to be here Santana."

Santana's smile fades a bit. "Quinn was trying to help. At least that's what she was telling herself I imagine." Santana says. She doesn't hear anything back and she sighs. There's an awkward pause for a moment and Santana sighs, she's going to need to take control of this conversation and normally that's easy. She smirks after a moment. "Good job on taking out Quinn's nose, now you're the pretty twin again. Well you will be after you do something about your roots."

Charlie blinked at this and huffed blowing a strand of hair out of her face. "You _know_ I'm a natural blonde! And I was always the pretty twin!"

Santana smiles, needling Charlie was always the quickest and most effective way to get her talking. "I know nothing of the sort, but you do know the hobbits going to flip and then blame me for Quinn's horribly disfigured face."

"I hope Rachel doesn't feel sorry for her. She tricked me, I thought it was just supposed to be the two of us and Rachel. I was already nervous about all those people and I—I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful in that dress." Charlie says biting her lip.

Santana smiles at this and slowly tucks her hair back behind her ear. She needs to get Charlie calm and talking. "What no whispering in my ear about how it belongs on the floor?" Santana teased.

" _Santana_! There are people around and I'm—locked in a bathroom." Charlie crinkles her nose at this. "I mean I suppose we've done it in worse places remember—"

Santana glances around. " _Charlie_. You do know people can hear us," Santana reminds her. "But yes I do remember."

Charlie opens her mouth to say something else that's probably highly inappropriate given the circumstances when it hits her that she's hiding out in a bathroom and she closes her mouth and frowns. This is a new low even for her. Barricading herself in a _public_ bathroom. She sighs and turns around and rests her back on the door sliding down. "I should go back to the facility Santana, you need this little vacation more than I do. You've been working far too hard lately. I'm the one that's basically living in a spa."

Santana was quiet for a moment, "I don't even _want_ to be here tonight. I was harassed by a fucking hobbit until I couldn't stand it anymore. Your sister in law is annoying as _fuck_. I don't know _how_ you put up with it." Santana said. "So why don't I just take you back to Green Oaks."

Charlie frowned, she couldn't be stuck in a small car with Santana. "I'll take a—" Charlie frowned she didn't have any money on her. "I'll walk back to Green Oaks," she said.

"It's a forty minute drive Charlie, you'll be walking forever and I _doubt_ you know how to get there on foot. So don't be silly. I can take you back. It'll save me from having to deal with the Hobbit being all up in my face for days about whether I liked it and what she could do to improve. Changing your face and growing two inches _isn't_ an option that I can give."

Charlie smiles, "Do you trust me to be in a car with you for forty minutes? Because Quinn could take me back to the facility Santana. It's the least she can do."

"Do you really want to be in a car for forty minutes with Quinn?" Santana retorts. "Charlie you barricaded yourself in a bathroom because you think that you're going to hurt me, in some way. You don't have a gun. I'm pretty sure that I could kick your ass now if you were to try anything funny—" Santana turned to the woman who tapped her on the shoulder. "Can't _you see_ we're having a very touching moment here?" Santana turns back to the bathroom door. "Honestly, people these days. Charlie I think I'm going to be kicked out anyway."

Charlie swallows and stands up, she can do this. She just needs to stop being afraid of every little thing and take a step forward. She slowly unlocks the door, and opens the door, she ignores the stares and looks at Santana who is waiting for her. "Hey."

Santana stared at Charlie for a moment, she had lost weight but she looked okay. She looked healthy and strong and she can't help it and she moves to hug her tightly. "Hey."

Charlie slowly wraps her arms around Santana tightly and holds her tightly. Eight months was a long time and she missed her. She had missed this—missed—"You haven't been eating." Charlie said, pulling away from Santana so she can look at her carefully.

Santana stiffens and wonders if she can run and barricade herself in the bathroom.

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 **AN: Oh dear.**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thank you for all the reviews, here's the next chapter.**

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Charlie slowly wraps her arms around Santana tightly and holds her tightly. Eight months was a long time and she missed her. She had missed this—missed—"You haven't been eating." Charlie said, pulling away from Santana so she can look at her carefully.

Santana stiffens and wonders if she can run and barricade herself in the bathroom, but instead she swallows. "I've missed a few meals every now and again, I've been so swamped at work you know how it gets Charlie. The audit—"

Charlie's heart sinks a bit and she knows that this is because of her that she must have triggered something in Santana, all her eating issues from the past were coming up and she wasn't around to help her. To make sure that she ate and to support her. "You're no good to anyone if you hungry all the time. Food is good, helps the brain might be why you're having such a hard time at work." Charlie interrupts she can deal with the soul-crushing guilt later, but right now she wants to get some food into Santana. How hadn't anyone noticed? "So since I'm hungry and I don't want to deal with Quinn, you're going to take me to Chipotle because I'm still your house bitch and I need actual food."

Santana bites the inside of her lip for a moment, this really was a poorly disguised attempt for Charlie to sit down and watch her eat, and fill her with empty calories. But this was the first time she had actually seen Charlie in nearly ten months and she didn't want to just go to Chipotle—she didn't want to drive her back either. She looked fine, and even though she was furious at Quinn for taking away their choice, she could see why she had made the move. She wanted this night to be special, "Why don't we go to Zupa's instead."

Charlie frowned at this, Santana didn't _need_ a salad or a small expensive sandwich and some soup. She needed real food. "I was promised Chipotle. I want a fucking gigantic burrito Santana."

"It's been ten months since I've seen you—and the first thing you want is Chipotle?" Charlie raises a brow at her and she shifts. "Whenever you came back we always went somewhere nice—did a bit of dancing—Chipotle's is hardly fine dining Charlie."

Charlie gasps dramatically, "Sacrilege! You take that back! Big. Ass. Burrito. A big ass burrito! That's what I want right now."

Santana shakes her head as people give them strange looks as they pass by. "Charlie—"

"You know that I'm not coming home yet. I'm not—I'm not better yet. I get it, I know I look fine but I still can't sleep and I could have another break. I'm working on it though, I want to get healthier overall," Charlie says reaching for Santana's hands. "When I _do_ come home, you'll take me somewhere fancy and we can do dancing and then maybe we can do other things." Charlie says calmly.

Santana gently squeezes Charlie's hand and is about to say something when she pauses, "What do you mean _I'll_ take you somewhere fancy?" Santana says and she's met with a large smile from Charlie.

"Well you can give me the credit card so it's the illusion that I'm the one paying for things," Charlie says as she tugs on Santana's arm, pulling her along. "I'm not going to be your house bitch forever Santana. I'll get better and I'll get a job and then we can work on—well us."

Santana is quiet for a moment and studies Charlie letting her tug her along, it's a nice thought. That Charlie will get better but right now that time seems so far away. But she's with her now, being dragged to go to Chipotle because Charlie generally has the patience of a child when it came to Chipotle. It felt like things were normal, that they were fine that nothing terrible had happened nearly a year ago, that absolutely nothing had changed. She wants to get lost in that moment, but she can't because it's been nearly a year and Charlie's not coming home with her. They weren't going somewhere nice, they weren't going dancing afterwards where Charlie would murmur all the things she wanted to do to her in her ear and it'd be a race to see who could hold out the longest. The days where they would spend days getting reacquainted with each other's body and the inevitable switch where Charlie would slowly take control and she would finally let go of all control. But that's not happening right now, she's been gone and now that she's back she's going to be gone again. And a job—was she going to join the military again and have a career there—it had always been the plan. "Charlie."

Charlie turns to look at Santana and she swallows when she sees that look on her face and she slows down a bit and let's go of Santana's arm. "You want to break up with me—don't you?" she asks glancing down at the ground and frowning a bit.

Santana is quiet for a moment, "This is—hard. I didn't realize how hard this would be. I just—you're here right now and you'll be gone. You'll be gone in a few hours and I'll go back to my shitty little apartment because I can't be in our apartment. Not without you there. And I miss you, fuck I miss you being there and making sure I eat and taking care of me. The audit is so bad this year and you're not around to help me through it not like you were last year and the year before that. And I don't know when you're coming back –that's the worse at least I had an idea of when you were coming back. And now you don't know when you're going to get better or how long it's going to take—and once you do get better you're going to what? Join the military again and be gone for months on end? I like what we do Charlie, I didn't mind the letters or the skype calls but I _love_ sleeping beside you. You came back last time and said you weren't going back. That you were done." Santana exhales and reaches for Charlie who is still looking at her. "The worst part about this—is that I don't even know what caused this all of this. I mentally go over all our mental conversations to see if you mentioned something when we were on the phone, I looked at all our old emails. Everything and nothing I don't know—what caused this."

Exhaustion, she can hear the exhaustion in Santana's voice and she closes her eyes. She can already feel it coming back to her. "Do you want to end things?" Charlie asks after a moment forcing her eyes open.

Santana was quiet for a moment and bit her lip not quite knowing what to say. "I—I don't know anymore." She admits and she feels Charlie pull away for a moment. "Charlie," she says with a sigh.

Charlie flashes her a small smile, she had been expecting this. She knew that it was unreasonable to ask Santana to wait, when there was no real hope that she'd ever be able to be normal again. "I should have done more than break Quinn's nose and I'm guessing that means no Chipotle then?"

She hadn't known what she had expected, maybe for Charlie to show her that it was worth it. That waiting was worth it that she'd get better. She sighs, "Charlie, I can't do this, I can't doing it anymore. Where I see you and then you have to leave again. So maybe when we figure things out—like when you get better we can go over this decision?"

Charlie sighs and rubs her hands a bit, "Okay—so if we're not going to Chipotle what about McDonalds?" Charlie offers. "You can go through the drive thru." Charlie offers, she doesn't want to focus on this right now.

Anger spikes a bit as Santana looks at Charlie who turns and starts looking for her car. "Do you even care?" she asks the words tumbling out, causing Charlie to stop and look at her. "Do you even care that it's hard for me? It's been so fucking hard without you and you're there with one foot out the door. The moment that I tell you how fucking difficult it is and you're ready to be done. Forever. Not just take a break not just—until you get back but forever. You're more interested in your goddamn stomach than you care about this relationship."

Charlie runs a hand through her hair, "What do you want me to say Santana?" I know it's hard, and I know that I shouldn't even be asking this of you, but I told myself. I promised myself that if you ever said you wanted to leave then I'd let you. I don't want to be the person who holds you back. I don't want to be the person who causes you pain—and I'm so tired of you worrying about me. I don't want that to be our relationship anymore."

"For _fucks_ sake Charlie get over yourself. You're the one that pointed a gun at me and I fucking forgave you. I forgave you Charlie so fucking get over it and forgive yourself. I'm not eating because honest to god I'm too worried about work and every little thing to eat. And yeah, I know that's bad. I know it, but when you finally left and told me you weren't going to go off again I believed you. That you weren't going to disappear for months on end I believed you. Yet here we are again! And once you're fixed you want to put on the god damn uniform again."

Charlie frowns and moves to Santana, "What are you talking about Santana? I am _done_. I am done completely and utterly _done_ , with that like I said I was. I left the army but I can't be completely dependent on you for the rest of my life—being a bum."

Santana scoffs, "What's wrong with being my trophy wife for a bit? I know it was never the plan for you to be my house bitch permanently but you were there for a long time Charlie, you worked hard got your promotions. You aren't a bum, I never minded that you weren't working it wasn't like you were laying around all day doing nothing. You were taking care of me and I enjoyed it. Honestly Charlie—I never cared that you weren't working. Especially since you were gone all the time when you were, having you around at my beck and call was—well it felt great."

Charlie runs a hand through her hair, "Yeah but we can't get married if I'm just your house bitch," she says and then blinks and flushes.

"You don't even believe in marriage," Santana points out.

"Yes I know I don't believe in marriage but I _know_ you do! I've heard you talking to your mom about how you would like to get married someday. It's _important_ to you, just like it's important to me that we're together for the rest of our lives. You want a wedding, your mom's told me as much, a big one. You've planned it and I see how you get when you pass those bridal magazines. So I want to give it to you, because if it's that important to you. It's that important to me." Charlie said looking at her.

Santana shifts at this, surprised and she bites the inside of her lip. This was new. She sighs, "Let's go to Chipotle."

Charlie blinks and then gives her a suspicious look. "Really?"

"Really. This isn't the place for this conversation. And honestly I'm hungry." Santana admits, she really could go for some actual food right now with Charlie trying to steal from her plate.

"Big ass burritos?" Charlie asks.

"Big ass burritos," Santana says with a nod and Charlie smiles at this.

Charlie's quiet as they walk to where Santana parked the car and she reaches over and takes her hand only relaxing when Santana squeezes it back. They were going to be okay they had to be.

* * *

 **AN: Stuff happens.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Yey let's just get to it shall we, thank you for the reviews.**

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"Do you know that they charge extra for the freaking guacamole?" Santana asked her nose crinkled as she looked at the receipt.

Charlie smiled and handed Santana her burrito, "Double Chicken, extra cheese and salsa on the side. And I got the works with extra guacamole," Charlie said handing her a burrito. She takes a seat and relaxes, pulling off her jacket to offer to Santana who shivers. It's not that cold outside but she still has a shirt and Santana's arms are bare.

Santana puts on the jacket and neatly unwraps her burrito, and shakes her head. She didn't particularly want to eat a giant burrito, but Charlie was watching her and she sighs. It had been a long time since she had eaten anything other than vegetables. "I really just wanted a salad Charlie."

Charlie looks at Santana for a moment, "Normally I would get you a salad, but you need some meat and carbs and some cheese. You can't survive on celery and carrots Santana. You just can't. So eat your burrito that you paid for." Charlie says with a small smile and takes a bite into her own burrito, and lets out an orgasmic moan that has Santana flushing as she stares at her. "It's been like a fucking year. Maybe Holly will let me go to a nearby chipotle once a week."

Santana nibbles on her own burrito slowly and glances around, "Will you stop sounding like you're having sex with your food. People are staring!" Santana said sinking down. Honestly seeing her this happy was worth it, but at the same time those moans were doing things to her and Charlie _knew_ it.

Charlie flashes her a smile, a bit of guacamole running down the side of her lip and she reaches for a napkin, "Sorry, it's just it's been a long time since I've had the holiness that is chipotle," Charlie admits wiping her mouth clean. She flushes embarrassed. "How's searching for the person who's clearly siphoning funds?"

"Not well," Santana admits running a hand through her hair as she takes another bite of her burrito, suddenly feeling starved. "I'm still looking at accounts," Santana said with a frown, she needed a name to give to the authorities. Because it really didn't look good for her, all that money that had been taken while she was distracted.

Charlie frowned slightly at this, "Santana you're like the smartest person I know, and no one is a craftier bitch than you are. If anyone is going to catch this person it's you. I mean think about it. You've managed to put Quinn in her place a few times and I mean you're amazing Santana, so just remember to take a breath and just figure it out. Pretend it was you, and work your way back. I mean that's what I'd do, and I'm nowhere as crafty as you are."

Santana exhales and takes a sip of her water, Charlie was right, she was a crafty bitch. She should have figured this out earlier, and it's not like she didn't have the evidence. She was dripping in evidence, now she just needed to tap into the quite possibly criminal part of her brain. People weren't that smart, so she was looking at it all wrong. She flicked her eyes to Charlie who had picked out a piece of steak and shakes her head. "I've missed you," the words tumble out and Charlie looks at Santana and smiles.

"I've missed you too, more than anyone. I mean honestly I'd rather see your face than Quinn's. If I wanted to see Quinn's face I'd look in a god damn mirror. Well not anymore, hopefully it comes out crooked and Rachel rips her a new one." Charlie said with a sigh. She didn't like being tricked and while she was glad to see Santana to hold her hand to lean against her, to remind her crappy memory that Santana wasn't some figment of her imagination but really the best thing she ever had.

Santana shook her head and it her lip as she finished her burrito and frowned ever so slightly and looked at Charlie's half eaten burrito and reaches for it and takes it much to Charlie's chagrin and takes a bite of it. She smirks and dares Charlie to take it from her. She's rewarded with an amused smile from Charlie and she wonders if this was her plan all along and she reaches over to rest her hand on Charlie's outstretched hand only to stop and look at her. Charlie nods once and she takes it. "Are you okay though? They aren't like torturing you are you? No electric shock therapy? No drugging you?"

"I have medication that they give me for anxiety but it's as needed sort of thing and I don't need it though I probably should have brought a pill along just in case, and no torture, at least most of the time. They stuck me in the wrong group at the beginning and well that didn't go well and I got labelled a problem patient but since then I haven't had an incident." Charlie says and fiddles with the napkin. "Quinn thinks that since I haven't freaked out in a while, that I'm fine. But—I don't think I am. It's just hard to talk about it sometimes."

"What's hard to talk about?" Santana asks reaching for Charlie's drink as well and taking a sip of the soda as she eyed Charlie carefully. "What can't you talk about Charlie?" Charlie looks away and Santana looks at the burrito and places it down. "Does this have to do with why you've got PTSD?"

The images flash and Charlie grips the table trying to remember everything she was taught by Holly to calm herself from having another panic attack and she forces her eyes open. Santana above everyone else, deserved to _know_. "I killed a person. I know I was a soldier and I had killed people before that," Charlie exhales after a moment and looks at Santana.

Santana runs her thumb along Charlie's knuckles to soothe her, seeing the distress on her face. This was a moment for her this was difficult and she needed to be there to understand. "What made this one different?"

Charlie takes a shaky breath, she needed to tell someone and there was no one on this planet she trusted more than Santana. She needed to understand, that this wouldn't just go away. "She was a six year old girl." Charlie mutters.

Santana stiffens at this but doesn't say a word, instead she gently squeezes Charlie's hand to let her know that she was listening that she was listening and _not_ judging. But no wonder, she hadn't known if she had known. She didn't know what she needed to do but she could have helped somehow to carry the load to do something. Hell she would have dragged Charlie to a therapist and forced her to go to deal with it.

"Suicide bomber." Charlie says watching Santana's face grow hard. "I didn't want to—shoot her. I just—I didn't and the next thing my CO is screaming at me to pull the fucking trigger and I can't remember doing it. But I do, and the next thing there's an explosion and then there are people running and someone steps on an IED, another explosion. I thought I was going to die, I freaked. I didn't—I wasn't some brave soldier. I nearly pissed myself in fear. We get out and it just—everything was hell. I got out and it was just like it was hell Santana. Somehow I ended up covered in blood and like dirt and just sand. I couldn't do it—fuck I couldn't do it and when we finally made it back to base I like sobbed for hours before calling you. I didn't want you to worry, I should have told you but you were busy and I just—" Charlie's voice breaks and she looks away trying to push the thoughts out.

Santana is quiet and Charlie doesn't seem to want to look at her, there is shame on her face, there is a war of emotions on her face and she just can't even begin to pinpoint where to even begin tangling this mess. She hadn't known what to expect but Charlie telling her that it was a child, should have been enough to let her know it was bad. She doesn't even know what to say, there isn't some snarky words that would fix the issue and Charlie needed all the help that she could get. "I think," she begins slowly. "That you have a good heart, and that you're human." Santana said. "Not wanting to harm a child—that's _human_ Charlie."

Charlie closes her eyes, logically she could make ever excuse in the world, but it didn't help it didn't stop the nightmares, it didn't make her feel better. Not thinking about it and just trying to live in the moment certainly didn't help, she just wanted to get better. To be the person that Santana needed to be. She was sick of being watched like she was an invalid. She had been fine, she had been _good_. She should have quit while she was ahead. "When—the audit finishes can you come visit me? Please?"

Santana blinked and squeezed Charlie's hand tightly, Charlie had never asked before but she sounded broken right now. Broken and scared and there was a haunted look on her face and Santana is quiet for a moment. "Yes. I'll come visit you as much as I can and we can continue to chat and talk on the phone whenever you need it."

"Thank you—I don't want to make you come out of your way Santana I just—you make it better. Better than anyone else," Charlie admits and squeezes Santana's hand tightly. It's enough and Charlie gets up and moves to where Santana is sitting and wraps her arms around her and she closes her eyes as Santana gently rubs her leg.

* * *

"Quinn what were you thinking, you can't surprise someone with PTSD! You're lucky all she did was break your nose! How could you even think that this was a good idea? She was a soldier she could have _killed you_! Are we forgetting that she held a loaded gun to Santana's head?" Rachel said, she had come out to see what Santana thought only to find that her friend hadn't showed up. She had instead found her wife with a pack of ice on her face.

"Me? I was trying to help!" Quinn said wincing. Charlie had done a number on her nose.

"Help how? She has PTSD, she's getting the best help she can and she _trusted_ you Quinn. She did this whole thing for you, to show you that she was working on it. You can't surprise her like that—what if Santana's in danger because of what you did? What if she had lashed out at Santana? We _still don't' know what triggers her_." Rachel said freaking out and reaching for her phone.

"My face?" Quinn said pointing at her broken nose.

Rachel blinked and looked at her wife, "You're going to apologize to Charlie."

"She broke my nose!" Quinn snaps at Rachel.

"She has PTSD, you got lucky." Rachel said not feeling sorry for her wife. Right now she was worried about Santana and Charlie. This was a disaster and her mind was going to all the dark places.

"I was trying to help, she gets better when Santana is around and she needed that boost. You'll see she'll start getting better quicker now."

"This isn't a broken leg Quinn there is no timetable, Charlie is going at her pace, I thought you understood that. This is going to take some time and by all accounts she was doing better. Holly was going to start attempting to figure out her triggers. So she'd learn how to deal with it. What if you put her back?"

"Why is this about Charlie? My nose is _broken_!"

"Because this was about Charlie Quinn, this wasn't about you fixing her. You can't fix her, this isn't something you can put the pieces back because honestly it's not working every time you try. Santana's 'winning' because she's not rushing her. She's not demanding anything from her she's trying to understand. This isn't even a competition, you're her sister. Charlie tolerates you better than she tolerates Frannie and quite frankly she has openly admitted that she is more than grateful to you for introducing the two of them." Rachel said firmly and rolled her eyes. "Be grateful that I made Charlie promise to not elope with Santana so you can speak at her wedding. Though at this rate it's not going well."

"Can we at least go to the hospital?" Quinn groans and Rachel finally pats her leg gently. "Rachel! I'm the one with a broken nose!"

"I know, let's hope that your septum isn't deviated, I don't think that I could deal with you snoring. I have a very strict schedule when it comes to sleep." Rachel says and is met with a look from Quinn and she shrugs. "It'll be a shame if you stopped being the hot twin." She smiles when Quinn shoves her. It really would.

* * *

 **AN: Stuff going on break again.  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Another chapter.** **I have a tumblr and a set up, unfortunately fanfiction is being well itself, and won't let me give you a direct link in author profile. My handle is Astarpen,tumblr,com. (Replace the commas with . and you'll also find a direct link to my as well. I've decided to go with early access for my , so if you want to see things as they're finished, then you'll be able to. I'm still working to get things set up so it's seamless but stuff is coming, it'll give you updates on what I'm working on, and pure sneak peeks. Also there is a donation button up if you want to give once, or if you want to have a monthly subscription that's up as well.**

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Santana pulled up to the front of Green Oaks and parked the car at the entrance. She had taken a good look at it as they had driven towards the entrance, but seeing it up close it was different. Truthfully the building looked a bit daunting and she turned to Charlie who was fiddling with her seatbelt. "So. This is it." Santana said quietly causing Charlie to turn to her.

"Yeah," Charlie mumbles as she finally manages to get her seatbelt off. "This is it." She turns to look at the building. "It's not _that_ bad, I mean they don't torture me and the walls aren't padded. But I always thought would sort of be fun you know? Bounce around like a kid—"

"Charlie," Santana said with a sigh stopping and forcing her to look at her. She swallows and she realizes that maybe having Charlie's hazel eyes focusing on her right now isn't that great. "What now?" she asks. "What do we do now?"

Charlie forces a smile onto her lips and reaches to touch Santana's hand, "I have no clue. There's a part of me that wants to tell you to move on with your life. To go and be happy without me, to find someone else or to focus on yourself and _be_ happy. When I get out—well then if you're single and free we can figure it out then."

"That's not—" Santana begins, her voice raising as she gets annoyed at the very idea.

"I said there was a part of me that wanted that. It's the right thing to do—but now that I've seen you. Now that I know that you're not a figment of my imagination—I want to be selfish. I want you to come see me again. I want to keep trying this." Charlie frowns. "But I'm not on a timeline—I don't know when I'm going to be fixed, when it's going to be _safe_ for you to be around me—"

"I think it's already safe for me to be around you Charlie. We've been in the car for hours and you haven't freaked out yet. I mean _sure_ you punched Quinn and broke her nose but she kind of deserved it for springing it on you. What I'm saying is that I'm not afraid of you anymore." Santana says squeezing her hand. When Charlie gives her a flat look, she frowns a bit but doesn't change her mind. "I'm _not_. You're doing better even I can see that."

"It doesn't feel like it, I don't know what's going on in my own head sometimes. Some nights—I wake up screaming. I get angry about stupid stuff and even if Quinn deserved it that doesn't mean I should have hit her. Quinn's trying, badly, but she's trying. It's more than I can say for the rest of my family. I wake up and sometimes I expect to be back there, that this whole thing is just a nightmare. It takes me a moment to realize that it's not. And I can't be there for you. I want to be there for you I want to support you and I _can't_." Charlie hand slams against dashboard and when Santana flinches she frowns. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"No one said that this was going to be easy." Santana said after a moment. "This isn't easy for any of us. You know I was more worried about you coming back in a body bag or missing a limb. I figured if you were just missing a leg or an arm, we'd still be okay. Sure we'd have to adjust, sure you'd probably be a dick for a bit, but you lost an arm or a leg. We could fix that. We could make you relatively whole again. You'd go and do something that would get all your focus, but I knew you'd be okay. It was something physical. You could _fix_ that. I never thought it would be something like this. I never thought—" Santana exhales.

"That I'd go crazy." Charlie finishes and runs a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I didn't think so too. I mean I thought it happened to _other_ people. I did tours before and I was always fine. I always used to mock the people with PTSD, said that they weren't strong enough. That they were weak—but look at me now. I can't—I can't control it. I don't know what's going to set me off. I don't know what's going to make me just _snap_."

"You're here, at this _fancy_ expensive place that has made you more than a zombie. Look at you now, I'm serious Charlie. Look at you. You're still _you_. I don't think that you _understand_ how much different you were when you came back. The Charlie back then wouldn't have noticed that I didn't eat. The Charlie I knew from before the incident wouldn't have demanded Chipotle. You're getting better even if you don't think it. You're going to need to trust yourself. You need to be positive and you need to know that I'm going to wait for you. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm crazy?" Charlie points out and gets a quick swat from Santana. Charlie flashes Santana a half smiles. "I am, you've always said it. Part of the reason you fell in love with me."

"I'm pretty sure it was the eight-hour sex marathon which ended with my legs giving out on me and you feeding me strawberries dipped in chocolate." Santana shot back and smiled. "That's pretty much when I decided that I was going to keep you. It had absolutely nothing to do with your abs, or your wit, or the fact you're a pain in my ass."

"Well if I remember correctly, we tried that as well so I can understand—ow Santana." Charlie laughs and tries to dodge the smack that comes again and she instead grabs Santana hand gently. She shifts and pulls Santana a bit closer and pauses for a second when Santana's face is inches away from hers. "I—uh—"

Santana pressed her lips against Charlie's, it was meant to be a quick peck, but it was like lightning in a bottle. It was a jolt that startled her and the quick peck suddenly deepened into something more quickly. She had _missed_ her, missed this, and missed feeling her arms around her. This was just like when Charlie had come back from tour and that usually ended up with them naked somewhere fast. It takes all of her willpower to push Charlie back. "Go. Get better. I'm going to wait for you, but after this Charlie, after you come back. You're not allowed to go anywhere anymore. No more going off to war, no more leaving me alone for months."

Charlie swallows and stares at Santana and nods. "Right, I'm never going to leave you alone." Charlie repeated slowly.

Santana nodded and finally tears her eyes away from Charlie's. She needed to fight the urge to kiss Charlie again, because she _knew_ it would she could just tell that it would end with them naked on her back seat. It had certainly happened before. "Good, now go get better. I'll start visiting you once I figure this thing out at work and get through the audit."

Charlie nods wordlessly and pops the car door open and stumbles out of the car and turns to look at Santana again. She swallows and looks at her for a moment. It takes her a moment to straighten herself out and fix her clothes, smoothening them. "I look forward to it," Charlie says and then smiles after a moment. "I love you Santana."

"I love you too Chuck," Santana says and flashes a smile at Charlie.

Charlie exhales deeply and turns to look at Green Oaks, before taking another breath and walking inside to sign herself back in. She could _do this_. She needed to do it, if it took all her energy, if it took all her power she was going to be _damned_ sure that she got out as soon as possible.

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 **AN: See you next time**


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